The Passing of the Caravan
been her friend, and she had meant to thank him for many things. Now that was impossible. She stood on tiptoe, peering out over the trees, searching for something she could not see among the overhanging mountain slopes. Nothing was visible except the clear blue of the sky and the wandering, white clouds that seemed quite close at hand.
"What, dear?" he questioned gently.
"Our house," she lifted quiet eyes, in which lurked a hint of tears. "We shan't ever see it again, shall we?"
"Why, sweetheart," he took her face between hands that were not altogether steady, "did you—were you happy there?"
"Too happy to tell you, Donovan Khan—if you don't know."
And her eyes, bright under the tears, smiled up at him.
The aspens at the edge of the clearing parted and an ugly, scarred face looked out steadfastly upon the two who had eyes only for each other. A hand was lifted in yearning salutation. Then a shaggy, limping figure moved away from them through the trees toward the cleft in the hills that was Yakka Arik.
Aravang had said farewell to his master and his mistress.
THE END
