For the battle was
begun, she knew, by that first sharp gallop, and here at the start she
felt confident of her strength. When she met Pierre she could force
him to turn back with her.
Wilbur checked his horse to a trot; they climbed a hill, and just as
the rain broke on them with a rattling gust they swung into the valley
of the Old Crow. Above them in the sky the thunder rode; the rain
whipped against the rocks like the rattle of a thousand flying hoofs;
and now and again the lightning flashed across the sky.
Through that vast accompaniment they moved on in the night straight
toward the heart of the mountains which sprang into sight with every
flash of the lightning and seemed toppling almost above them, yet they
were weary miles away, as she knew.
By those same flashes she caught glimpses of the face of Wilbur. She
hardly knew him. She had seen him always big, gentle, handsome,
good-natured; now he was grown harder, with a stern set of the jaw,
and a certain square outline of face. It had seemed impossible.
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