After seeking her room she had
heard the rapid beat of hoofs, and, looking out of her window, she had
seen Calumet when he had raced from the ranchhouse in search of
Taggart. Still watching at the window, she had seen him returning; saw
him disappear into the timber clump.
Some time later she had observed the Taggarts emerge and run as though
their lives depended on haste. She watched Calumet as he rode by her
window to take the two horses to the corral, stared at him with
fascinated eyes, holding her breath with horror as he walked from the
ranchhouse to the timber clump with the pick and shovel on his
shoulder; stood at the window with a great fear gripping her until he
came back, still carrying the pick and shovel; watched him as he
released the Taggart horses, drove them to the bend in the trail, and
returned to the house. His movements had been stealthy, but she heard
him when he came into the house and mounted the stairs. Then she heard
him no more.
But a great dread was upon her. What meant that journey to the timber
clump with the pick and shovel, and what had been done there during the
hour that he had remained there? The idol she knew, was buried in a
clearing in the timber clump; she did not know just where, for she had
looked at the diagram only once, when Calumet's father had shown it to
her.
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