Perhaps some fleeing outlaw had pitched his camp here and had
been startled by her coming. In that case he lurked somewhere in the
woods at that moment, his keen eyes fixed on her, and his gun gripped
hard in his hand. Perhaps--and the thought thrilled her--this little
camp had been prepared by the same power, human or unearthly, which
had watched over her early that morning.
All reason and sane caution warned her to ride on and leave that camp
unmolested, but an overwhelming, tingling curiosity besieged her. The
thin column of smoke rose past the dark trees like a ghost, and
reaching the unsheltered space above the trees, was smitten by a light
wind and jerked away at a sharp angle.
She looked closer and saw a bed made of a great heap of the tips of
limbs of spruce, a bed softer than down and more fragrant than any
manufactured perfume, however costly.
Possibly it was the sight of this bed which tempted her down from the
saddle, at last. With the reins over her arm, she stood close to the
fire and warmed her hands, peering all the while on every side, like
some wild and beautiful creature tempted by the bait of the trap, but
shrinking from the scent of man.
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