There had once been water here
for the grasses, and thin-leafed plants grew rank about the rock's
base, then outlined in sere decay what had evidently been the path of a
streamlet. She knelt among them, thrusting her hands between their
rustling stalks, jerking them up and casting them away, the friable
soil spattering from their roots.
The heat was torrid, the noon ardors still imprisoned between the
slanting walls. Presently she sat back on her heels, and with an
earthy hand pushed the moist hair from her forehead. The movement
brought her head up, and her wandering eyes, roving in morose
inspection, turned to the cleft's opening. Courant was standing there,
watching her. His hands hung loose at his sides, his head was drooped
forward, his chin lowered toward his throat. The position lent to his
gaze a suggestion of animal ruminance and concentration.
"Why don't you get David to do that?" he said slowly.
The air in the little cleft seemed to her suddenly heavy and hard to
breathe. She caught it into her lungs with a quick inhalation.
Dropping her eyes to the weeds she said sharply, "David's sick.
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