You can't," Starr declared firmly, "tell
what fool idea they'll get into their heads. It was our shooting, most
likely. Now I must go. Adios, I'll see yuh before long."
"Well, but what--"
Helen May found herself speaking to the scenery. Starr was gone with
Rabbit at a sliding trot down the slope that kept the ridge between him
and the pinnacle. She stood staring after him blankly, her hat askew on
the back of her head, and her lips parted in futile astonishment. She did
not in the least realize just what Starr's extreme caution had meant. She
had no inkling of the real gravity of the situation, for her ignorance of
the lawless possibilities of that big, bare country insulated her against
understanding.
What struck her most forcibly was the cool manner in which he had ordered
her to act a part, and the unhesitating manner in which she had obeyed
him. He ordered her about, she thought, as though he had a right; and she
obeyed as though she recognized that right.
She watched him as long as he was in sight, and tried to guess where he
was going and what he meant to do, and what was his business--what he did
for a living.
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