Had he stayed I might have told him
all, and there never was a bit of news quite so important as that the
foolish puppy missed; never a story so romantic as that he might have
heard; never in the valley's history an event of such interest. He had
scorned it. Now he was with the dog mob down there in the gulch. I
could hear them giving tongue, and I knew they were on an old trail.
Soon they would be in full cry, but I did not care. It was fine to be
in full cry, of course, but from my post on the ridge-top, I could at
least keep in sight of the house by the clump of oaks on the hillside.
Last week I should have moped and fumed here, and cursed my luck in
being bound to a log on a day like this. Now I turned my face to the
sunlight and drank in the keen air. Now I whistled as merry a tune as
I knew.
"You seem to take well with solitude," came a voice behind me.
Looking about, I saw Robert Weston fighting his way through the thicket.
"I take better to company," I said. "Why have you deserted the others?"
Weston sat down at my side with his gun across his knees.
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