SON OF THE WIND
night. She began to walk rapidly up the road, which stretched like a thin white wand between high walls of trees.
The frolic of the woodland deity seemed to have settled into an intense purpose. It was carrying her forward at a pace that did not slacken to the crest of the slope. Here they dipped over into a dimple of land. Upon the right, below the road, he saw the mossy roof he had noticed when he rode back from his adventure of the Sphinx. The wagon track which led downward looked clearer than it had by day. Without hesitation Blanche turned into it.
Carron halted, astonished. "Where are you going?"
She hung on her heel, and pointed on.
"Whose house is that?"
"Ferriers'." She had scarcely pronounced the word before she had turned and disappeared under the low hanging branches of the pines.
Mystified, angry, wondering what madness she had in her head, he ran after. She was in the dooryard before he could reach her. There was only a narrow space of earth some four feet broad between house and cañon, and the trees stood at its edge, reaching arms across it like a roof. The sagged, unpainted house front looked dark and disinhabited. Blanche made a warning gesture for silence, and
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