But in the bosom of Lightfoot was a weight like a stone. It was as heavy,
she thought, as one of the stones on the bare ground over the body of the
man who lay there in the dark earth, because he had run after her. Who was
it? It might be Ab! And all through the night the girl tossed uneasily on
her bed of leaves, as she did for nights to come.
As for Moonface, who shall say what that rotund and hairy young person
thought when the family had settled down to the changed order of things
and she had adjusted herself to the duties of a matron in her new home?
She was not less broadly buoyant and beaming, but who can tell that, when
she noted Lightfoot's burning look and thoughtful mien, Moonface did not
sometimes think of the two young men who, but yesterday, had rejoiced in
such strength and vigor and charm of power and who were so good to look
upon? She was a wife now, but to another sort of man. Even the feminine
among writers of erotic novels have not yet revealed what the young moon
thinks when she "holds the old moon in her arms." Anyhow, Hilltop was a
defense and a great provider of food. He was a fine figure of a man, too.
[Illustration: THE GIRL COWERED BEHIND A REFUGE OF LEAVES AND BRANCHES]
Lightfoot was not much in the cave now. She lingered about the open space
or wandered in the near wood.
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