SON OF THE WIND
among the mountains. Now it multiplied. It came intermittently, a rapid beating of the same hard muffled substance on the harder rock; now quiet, now repeated; faint at first, growing louder. Dead branches cracked, trampled over. Spaces of earth sounded like a drum beneath the tread. Again, among stones, the ringing was clear and sharp. To those proud feet silence was a thing to strike echoes from. The sound of the approach set the listeners' heart to its measure-rhythmic, wild, irregular, a roulade of liberty beaten out upon the earth. Carron was shaking like a man with a chill. His hands were cold. His throat, dry and stiff, seemed closing against breath. He had to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering; but the girl lay as still as moonlight, though she looked as pale, and her eyes were large with expectation of delight, as if she expected a rose to blossom under her sight, or a bird to fly to her out of heaven.
A rapid trot sounded just within the last fringe of pines, and a shadow ran out from the trees and rested, quivering, on the bright ground. There was a rustle among the pine branches, and the moon shone on a black forelock and pricked ears. The branches waved softly to and fro as the horse came pushing through. He paused at the upper edge of the clearing and lifted his head high. He looked
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