SOLITUDE AND STORM
The truth is I'm afraid of lightning and thunder, and thunder-claps hurt my head. If we have a bad storm, will you stay close by me?"
"Yes."
When they got back to camp the afternoon was closing, and it was exceedingly sultry. Not a breath of air stirred the aspen leaves, and when these did not quiver the air was indeed still. The dark purple clouds moved almost imperceptibly out of the west.
"What have we for supper?" asked Bess.
"Rabbit."
"Bern, can't you think of another new way to cook rabbit?" went on Bess, with earnestness.
"What do you think I am—a magician?" retorted Venters.
"I wouldn't dare tell you. But, Bern, do you want me to turn into a rabbit?"
There was a dark-blue, merry flashing of eyes, and a parting of lips; then she laughed. In that moment she was naïve and wholesome.
"Rabbit seems to agree with you," replied Venters. "You are well and strong—and growing very pretty."
Anything in the nature of compliment he had never before said to her, and just now he responded to a sudden curiosity to see its effect. Bess stared as if she had not heard aright, slowly blushed, and completely lost her poise in happy confusion.
"I'd better go right away," he continued, "and fetch supplies from Cottonwoods."
A startlingly swift change in the nature of her agitation made him reproach himself for his abruptness.
"No, no, don't go!" she said. "I didn't mean—that about the rabbit. I—I was only trying to be—funny. Don't leave me all alone!"
"Bess, I must go sometime."
"Wait then. Wait till after the storms."
The purple cloud-bank darkened the lower edge of
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