He buried his lips in the smothering sweetness
of her hair, and her arms crept gently about his neck. Even then
he did not take his eyes from Blake, nor for an instant did he
cease to listen for other sounds than the deep breathing of the
exhausted dogs. It was only a little while before the stars began
to fill the sky. The gloom lifted slowly, and out of darkness rose
the white world in a cold, shimmering glory. In that starlight he
could see the glisten of Celie's hair as it covered them like a
golden veil, and once or twice through the space that separated
them he caught the flash of a strange fire in the outlaw's eyes.
Both shores were visible. He could have seen the approach of a man
two hundred yards away.
After a little he observed that Blake's head was drooping upon his
chest, and that his breathing had become deeper. His prisoner, he
believed, was asleep. And Celie, nestling on his breast, was soon
in slumber. He alone was awake,--and watching. The dogs, flat on
their bellies, were dead to the world.
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