"Not a bit, child. I know how Brian Oakley loves you,
and he says that he has no fear for you if you are armed. He takes great
chances himself, that man, but he would send us back to Fairlands, in a
minute, if he thought you were in any danger in your rambles."
Beside the roaring Clear Creek, Sibyl seated self upon a great
boulder--her rod and flies neglected--apparently unmindful of the purpose
that had brought her to the stream. Her eyes were not upon the swirling
pool at her feet, but were lifted to a spot, a thousand feet up on Oak
Knoll, where she knew the pipe-line trail lay, and where Croesus had made
the momentous decision that had resulted in her comradeship with Aaron
King. Following the canyon wall with her eyes--as though in her mind she
walked the thread-like path--from Oak Knoll to the fire-break a mile from
the reservoir; her gaze then traced the crest of the Galenas, resting
finally upon that clump of pines high up on the point that was so clearly
marked against the sky. Once, she laid aside her rod, and slipped the
creel from her shoulder. But even as she set out, she hesitated and turned
back; resolutely taking up her fishing-tackle again, as though, angry with
herself for her state of mind, she was determined to indulge no longer her
mood of indecision.
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