hopeless task. Then they looked at each other in sudden, unspoken fear of failure.
“If we only had a mule!” he sighed. Immediately her face lighted and her lips parted, but she said nothing. He presently bounded to his feet.
‚ÄúNever mind, Zora. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I‚Äôll work all day. We just will get it done‚ÅÝ‚Äîsometime.‚Äù His mouth closed with determination.
“We won’t work any more today, then?” cried Zora, her eagerness betraying itself despite her efforts to hide it.
‚Äú You won‚Äôt,‚Äù affirmed Bles. ‚ÄúBut I‚Äôve got to do just a little‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
But Zora was adamant: he was tired; she was tired; they would rest. Tomorrow with the rising sun they would begin again.
“There’ll be a bright moon tonight,” ventured Bles.
“Then I’ll come too,” Zora announced positively, and he had to promise for her sake to rest.
They went up the path together and parted diffidently, he watching her flit away with sorrowful eyes, a little disturbed and puzzled at the burden he had voluntarily assumed, but never dreaming of drawing back.
Zora did not go far. No sooner did she know herself well out of his sight than she dropped lightly down beside the path, listening intently until the last echo of his footsteps had died away. Then, leaving the cabin on her right, and the scene of their toil on her left, she cut straight through the swamp, skirted the big road, and in a half-hour was in the lower meadows of the Cresswell plantations, where the tired stock was being