In the long look that passed between them something seemed to break down in Bud, the antagonism he had felt for Fair seemed to melt away. The mysterious comradery of honest manhood fell upon them both, and the man held out his hand.
The boy took it and his eyes became sane.
“We’ve got a big job cut out for us,” said Fair gravely, “and must be in the right—at every point. We’ll dig out the nest of vipers at Sky Line, but we’ll do the job cleanly. Now let’s get busy with our first-aid.”
CHAPTER XIV
LIGHT ON THE SHERIFF’S SHADOWS
From that night forth Fair came frequently to the homestead on Nameless. It was a dull spot now and his advent was a saving grace. The light of hope, the joy of labor and accomplishment, had in a measure departed. There was little or nothing to do, less to look forward to. For a little while Nance kept to the cabin as a matter of precaution, but soon she began to pick up the odds and ends of her pointless work—to mend the fence which had been cut, and to make ready to harvest the crop of hay across the river.
“Though I suppose it will be just that much work thrown away,” she said, “for the stacks will burn some night like they did before.”
“Take a chance,” counseled Fair, “maybe they won’t this time.”
“You bet we’ll take the chance,” said the girl with a flare of her old spirit, “we’ve never laid down yet.”
But try as she would there was a dullness in her, a desire to stop and rest a bit, and the hatred that was slowly growing in her stirred anew each time she raised her eyes to the distant line of Rainbow Cliff gleaming in the light like fairy stuff.
“If it wasn’t for you now, Mr. Fair,” she said to him, “I think I’d—almost—be ready to give up. You give me new courage—as Sheriff Selwood did when he stepped behind me that day on McKane’s porch.”