All at once he
was in the harsh grip of a cold certainty. The blast had been set
off intentionally to ruin his spring. What a hellish trick! No
Westerner, no Indian or Mexican, no desert man could have been
guilty of such a crime. To ruin a beautiful, clear, cool, never-failing
stream of water in the desert!
It was then that Belding's worry and indecision and brooding were
as if they had never existed. As he strode swiftly back to the
house, his head, which had long been bent thoughtfully and sadly,
was held erect. He went directly to his room, and with an air
that was now final he buckled on his gun belt. He looked the gun
over and tried the action. He squared himself and walked a little
more erect. Some long-lost individuality had returned to Belding.
"Let's see," he was saying. "I can get Carter to send the horses
I've left back to Waco to my brother. I'll make Nell take what
money there is and go hunt up her mother. The Gales are ready
to go--to-day, if I say the word. Nell can travel with them part
way East. That's your game, Tom Belding, don't mistake me."
As he went out he encountered Mr. Gale coming up the walk. The
long sojourn at Forlorn River, despite the fact that it had been
laden with a suspense which was gradually changing to a sad certainty,
had been of great benefit to Dick's father. The dry air, the heat,
and the quiet had made him, if not entirely a well man, certainly stronger
than he had been in many years.
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