Southward opened a narrow valley, as if
pointing the road to a less rigorous land. No, she could not deny its
beauty. But she was far too trail weary to appreciate the grandeur of
the Klappan Range. She desired nothing so much as rest and comfort,
and the solemn mountains were neither restful nor soothing. They stood
too grim and aloof in a lonely land.
There was so much to be done, work of the hands; a cabin to build, and
a stable; hay to be cut and stacked so that their horses might live
through the long winter--which already heralded his approach with
sharp, stinging frosts at night, and flurries of snow along the higher
ridges.
Bill staked the tent beside the spring, fashioned a rude fork out of a
pronged willow, and fitted a handle to the scythe he had brought for
the purpose. From dawn to dark he swung the keen blade in the heavy
grass which carpeted the bottom. Behind him Hazel piled it in little
mounds with the fork. She insisted on this, though it blistered her
hands and brought furious pains to her back. If her man must strain
every nerve she would lighten the burden with what strength she had.
And with two pair of hands to the task, the piles of hay gathered thick
on the meadow.
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