"I've always been a fool," he muttered savagely, as he sought his
horse. "I was a fool about Annabel--and now I'm too big a fool to
enjoy what fortune has fairly flung in my path." Presently he began
to laugh--it was all so ridiculous, beating a retreat because he
could not regard a fifteen-year-old girl as a little child! He drew
several time-worn letters from his pocket and tore them into small
bits that fluttered away like snowflakes on the wind. He had no
longer a sentimental interest in them, at all events.



CHAPTER XII
THE BIG WORLD


He did not come again. Lahoma used to go to the hill-island, which
she called Turtle Hill because the big flattened rocks looked like
turtles that had crawled up out of the cove to sun themselves; among
these turtles she would lie, watching the open mouth of the mountain
horseshoe in the vain hope that Wilfred would appear from around the
granite wall. Occasionally she descended to the plain and scanned
the level world, but it was pleasanter to watch from the cove
because one never knew, while in that retreat, who might be coming
along the range. On the plain, there were no illusions.

Lahoma courted illusions. And when she knew that Wilfred Compton
had severed connections with Old Man Walker she merely exchanged
one hope, one dream, for another. The opportunity to learn about
the big world was withdrawn; but the anticipation of one day meeting
Wilfred again was as strong as ever. She made no secret of this