"Not of me, are yeh?"
"No, I'm not afraid of you, Rob."
"I'm glad o' that. I--I want you--to like me, Julyie; won't you?"
"I'll try," she answered, with a smile.
"To-night, then," he said, as she moved away.
"To-night. Good-by."
"Good-by."
He stood and watched her till her tall figure was lost among the
drooping corn-leaves. There was a singular choking feeling in his
throat. The girl's voice and face had brought up so many memories of
parties and picnics and excursions on far-off holidays, and at the same
time held suggestions of the future. He already felt that it was going
to be an unconscionably long time before eleven o'clock.
He saw her go to the house, and then he turned and walked slowly up the
dusty road. Out of the May-weed the grasshoppers sprang, buzzing and
snapping their dull red wings. Butterflies, yellow and white, fluttered
around moist places in the ditch, and slender, striped water-snakes
glided across the stagnant pools at sound of footsteps.
But the mind of the man was far away on his claim, building a new house,
with a woman's advice and presence.
It was a windless night. The katydids and an occasional cricket were the
only sounds Rob could hear as he stood beside his team and strained his
ear to listen. At long intervals a little breeze ran through the corn
like a swift serpent, bringing to his nostrils the sappy smell of the
growing corn. The horses stamped uneasily as the mosquitoes settled on
their shining limbs. The sky was full of stars, but there was no moon.
"What if she don't come?" he thought. "Or can't come? I can't stand
that. I'll go to the old man an' say, 'Looky here--' Sh!"
He listened again. There was a rustling in the corn. It was not like the
fitful movement of the wind; it was steady, slower, and approaching. It
ceased. He whistled the wailing, sweet cry of the prairie-chicken. Then
a figure came out into the road--a woman--Julia!
He took her in his arms as she came panting up to him.
"Rob!"
"Julyie!"
A few words, the dull tread of swift horses, the rising of a silent
train of dust, and then--the wind wandered in the growing corn, the dust
fell, a dog barked down the road, and the katydids sang to the liquid
contralto of the river in its shallows.