to shake it off enveloped her in a reddish nimbus. It grimed the
handkerchiefs of others, and left sanguinary streaks on their mopped
foreheads. But as the coach had slowly climbed the summit the sun
was also sinking behind the Black Spur Range, and with its ultimate
disappearance a delicious coolness spread itself like a wave across the
ridge. The passengers drew a long breath, the reader closed his book,
the lady lifted the edge of her veil and delicately wiped her
forehead, over which a few damp tendrils of hair were clinging. Even a
distinguished-looking man who had sat as impenetrable and remote as a
statue in one of the front seats moved and turned his abstracted face to
the window. His deeply tanned cheek and clearly cut features harmonized
with the red dust that lay in the curves of his brown linen dust-cloak,
and completed his resemblance to a bronze figure. Yet it was Demorest,
changed only in coloring. Now, as five years ago, his abstraction had a
certain quality which the most familiar stranger shrank from disturbing.
But in the general relaxation of relief the novel-reader addressed him.
"Well, we ain't far from Boomville now, and it's all down-grade the rest
of the way. I reckon you'll be as glad to get a 'wash up' and a 'shake'
as the rest of us."
"I am afraid I won't have so early an opportunity," said Demorest, with
a faint, grave smile, "for I get off at the cross-road to Heavy Tree
Hill."
"Heavy Tree Hill!" repeated the other in surprise. "You ain't goin' to
Heavy Tree Hill? Why, you might have gone there direct by railroad,
and have been there four hours ago. You know there's a branch from the
Divide Railroad goes there straight to the hotel at Hymettus."
"Where?" said Demorest, with a puzzled smile.
"Hymettus. That's the fancy name they've given to the watering-place on
the slope. But I reckon you're a stranger here?"
"For five years," said Demorest. "I fancy I've heard of the railroad,
although I prefer to go to Heavy Tree this way. But I never heard of a
watering-place there before."
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