Chapter 14
WOLFON the anniversary of the night Mescal disappeared the
mysterious voice which had called to Hare so often and so strangely
again pierced his slumber, and brought him bolt upright in his bed
shuddering and listening. The dark room was as quiet as a tomb. He
fell back into his blankets trembling with emotion. Sleep did not
close his eyes again that night; he lay in a fever waiting for the
dawn, and when the gray gloom lightened he knew what he must
do.
After breakfast he sought August Naab. "May I go across the
river?" he asked.
The old man looked up from his carpenter's task and fastened his
glance on Hare. "Mescal?"
"Yes."
"I saw it long ago." He shook his head and spread his great
hands. "There's no use for me to say what the desert is. If you
ever come back
