He leaned forward and his gloved hand gently smoothed his horse's mane.
"You don't mean just exactly that," he said, with his eyes on the dim
outline of a butte that rose high in the distance. Alice noticed that
the bantering tone was gone from his voice, and that his words fell
with a peculiar softness. "I reckon, though, I know what you do mean.
An' I reckon that barrin' some little difference in viewpoint, we think
about alike. . . . Yonder's Antelope Butte. We'll be safe to camp
there till we find out which way the wind blows before we strike
across."
Deeper and deeper they pushed into the bad lands, the huge bulk of
Antelope Butte looming always before them, its outline showing
distinctly in the light of the sinking moon. As far as the eye could
see on every side the moonlight revealed only black lava-rock, deep
black shadows that marked the courses of dry coulees, and enormous
mud-cracks--and Antelope Butte.
As the girl rode beside the cowboy she noticed that the cynical smile
was gone from the clean-cut profile. For miles he did not speak.
Antelope Butte was near, now.
"I am thirsty," she said. A gauntleted hand fumbled for a moment with
the slicker behind the cantle, and extended a flask.
"It's water. I figured someone would get thirsty."
The girl drank from the flask and returned it: "If there are posses out
won't they watch the water-holes? You said there are only a few in the
bad lands.
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