and smiled, well pleased to see Dan so happy as they whirled into The Waltz.
Cattle Kate's gipsy ringlets brushed Dan's shoulder as they skated through the throng, pretty good dancers for that long-forgotten place; her pale cheek was near his, which was far from pale. But Barrett could see that her soul was away under the stars somewhere, seeking along a trail for a figure that her heart missed as the blood that visited it. For her the dance house was empty; for her the music did not sound.
Kate begged off from the next dance, which was. The Schottische, on some plea that Barrett did not hear, although she stood near him. She smiled as she sent Dan off with another girl, and turned softly again, with a little guilty look back, to peer out into the night.
Barrett watched the door almost as anxiously as Cattle Kate, but with a different feeling in his breast. The hour was growing late, even the stragglers had stopped coming, the last of the distant riders was already there. But Alma had not come.
Barrett believed she had been wiser at the last moment and decided not to venture it. He knew, and Alma must have realized by this, that they could not get anything out of Cattle Kate, granting that she knew anything to tell. As she stood at the door now, eyes searching in that pathetic longing, Barrett knew that she would die for Dale Findlay, and the secrets which she shared with him. He felt lighter in heart than he had felt for days. Alma was not coming. Perhaps Cattle Kate would have her wish; Findlay might come alone.
