CHAPTER VIII
AFTER SUNSET
The sun had set. Back from his flight over the hills with Sherrill,Philip had bathed and shaved, whistling thoughtfully to himself. Nowas he descended the steep Sherrill lane to the valley, ravine andhollow were already dark with twilight. From the rustling treesarching the lane overhead came the occasional sleepy chirp and flutterof a bird. Off somewhere in the gathering dusk a lonely owl hootedeerily. Still there was storm in the warm, sweet air to-night and backyonder over the hills to the north, the sky brightened fitfully withlightning.
Slipping his hand carelessly into his coat pocket for a pipe, Philiplaughed.
"My Lord!" said he lightly. "The hieroglyphical cuff! I should havegiven that to the Baron. . . . Themar," added Philip, packing hispipe, "is an infernal bounder!"
Diane's camp lay barely two miles to the west. Homing at sunset Philiphad veered and circled over it. Now as he turned westward toward theriver, the nature of his errand chafed him sorely.
"Nor can I see," mused Philip, puffing uncomfortably at his pipe, "whyin the devil he wants to know!"
A soft, warm nose suddenly insinuated itself into his hand with a frankbid for attention and Philip turned. A shaggy, soft-footed shadow waswaggling along at his heels, Dick's favorite setter.
"Hello, old top!" exclaimed Philip cheerfully. "When did you hit thetrail?"
Old Top barked joyously but didn't appear to remember.
"Well," said Philip, lazily patting the dog's head, "you're welcomeanyway. I'm a diplomat to-night," he added humorously, "bound upon a'mission of exceeding delicacy' and only a companion of yourextraordinary reticence and discretion would be welcome."
Man and dog turned aside into a crossroad. It was very dark now, theonly spot of cheer save for the lightning behind the hills, the coal ofPhilip's pipe.
"Tell me, old man," begged Philip whimsically, "what would you do? Maywe not wander casually into camp and look at my beautiful gypsy ladywithout fussing unduly about this infernal mission? More and more dowe dislike it. And in the morning we may respectfully rebel. Ah, anexcellent point, Nero. To be sure our chief will be very smooth andinsistent but we ourselves, you recall, have possibilities of extremefirmness. And the lady is Diane, though we only call her that, oldtop, among ourselves.
"Splendid decision!" exclaimed Philip presently with intensesatisfaction. "Nero, you've been an umpire. We'll rebel.Nevertheless, we must assure ourselves that the camp of our lady isready for storm."
It was. Following a forest path, Philip presently caught the flickerof a camp fire ahead. There was a huge tarpaulin over the wagon and acanopy above the horses. Storm-proof tents loomed dimly among thetrees. A brisk little man whose apple cheeks and grizzled whiskersPhilip instantly approved, trotted importantly about among the horses,humming a jerky melody. Johnny was fifty and looked a hundred, butthose unwary ones who had felt the steely grip of his sinewy fingerswere apt evermore to respect him.
Diane was piling wood upon the fire with the careless grace of asplendid young savage. The light of the camp fire danced ruddily uponher slim, brown arms and throat bared to the rising wind. A beautiful,restless gypsy of fire and wind, she looked, at one with thestorm-haunted wood about her.
There came a patter of rain upon the forest leaves. The tents wereflapping and the fire began to flare. There were curious wind cracklesall about him, and Nero had begun to sniff and whine. Somewhere--offthere among the trees--Philip fancied he caught the stealthy pad of afootfall and the crackle of underbrush. Every instinct of his bodyfocusing wildly upon the thought of harm to Diane, he whirled swiftlyabout, colliding as he did so with something--vague, formless,heavy--that leaped, crouching, from the shadows and bore him to theground. The lightning flared savagely upon steel. Philip felt ablinding thud upon his head, a sharp, stinging agony along his shoulder.
Somewhere in the forest--a great way off he thought--a dog was barkingfuriously.
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