The realization gave her a momentary start, as Purdy reined in close
beside her; but a glance into the man's face reassured her.
"Oh, isn't it just grand! I feel as if I could ride on, and on, and
on."
The man nodded and pointed upward where the surface of the bench cut
the sky-line sharply.
"Yes, mom," he answered respectfully. "If yeh'd admire to, we c'n
foller the trail to the top an' ride a ways along the rim of the bench.
If you like scenes, that ort to be worth while lookin' at. The dance
won't git a-goin' good fer an hour yet 'til the folks gits het up to
it."
For a moment Alice hesitated. The romance of the night was upon her.
Every nerve tingled, with the feel of the wild. Her glance wandered
from the rim of the bench to the cowboy, a picturesque figure as he sat
easily in his saddle, a figure toned by the soft touch of the moonlight
to an intrinsic symbolism of vast open spaces.
Something warned her to go back, but--what harm could there be in just
riding to the top? Only for a moment--a moment in which she could
feast her eyes upon the widespread panorama of moonlit wonder--and
then, they would be in the little town again before the dance was in
full swing. In her mind's eye she saw Endicott's disapproving frown,
and with a tightening of the lips she started her horse up the hill and
the cowboy drew in beside her, the soft brim of his Stetson concealing
the glance of triumph that flashed from his eyes.
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