Under the tumult of her thoughts a
conviction lay that Lucy must follow her own wild way. In the welter
of confused emotion it was all that was clear. It may have come from
that sense of Lucy's detachment, that consciousness of cords and
feelers stretching out to a new life which commanded and held closer
than the old had ever done. All she knew was that Lucy was obeying
some instinct that was law to her, that was true for her to obey. If
they caught her and brought her back it would twist her life into a
broken form. Was it love? Was that what had drawn her over all
obstacles, away from the established joys and comforts, drawn her like
a magnet to such a desperate course? With wide eyes the girl saw the
whiteness of the dawn, and sat gripped in her resolution of silence,
fearful at the thought of what that mighty force must be.
CHAPTER V
The cross, drowsy bustle of the camp's uprising was suddenly broken by
a piercing cry. It came from Bella, who, standing by the mess chest,
was revealed to her astonished companions with a buffalo skull in her
hands, uttering as dolorous sounds as ever were emitted by that animal
in the agony of its death throes.
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