FullReads

“I don’t understand,” he replied, struck by her manner.

“Ye ain’t very complimentary, or you’d allow that other folks might be wantin’ what you took just now, and might consider you was poachin’,” she returned gravely. “My best and strongest holt among those men is that uncle Harry would kill the first one who tried anything like that on–and they know it. That’s how I get all the liberty I want here, and can come and go alone as I like.”

Brice’s face flushed quickly with genuine shame and remorse. “Do forgive me,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t think–I’m a brute and a fool!”

“Uncle Harry allowed you was either drunk or a born idiot when you was promenadin’ into the valley just now,” she said, with a smile.

“And what did you think?” he asked a little uneasily.

“I thought you didn’t look like a drinkin’ man,” she answered audaciously.

Brice bit his lip and walked on silently, at which she cast a sidelong glance under her widely spaced heavy lashes and said demurely, “I thought last night it was mighty good for you to stand up for your frien’ Yuba Bill, and then, after ye knew who I was, to let the folks see you kinder cottoned to me too. Not in the style o’ that land-grabber Heckshill, nor that peart newspaper man, neither. Of course I gave them as good as they sent,” she went on, with a little laugh, but Brice could see that her sensitive lip in profile had the tremulous and resentful curve of one who was accustomed to slight and annoyance. Was it possible that this reckless, self-contained girl felt her position keenly?

“I am proud to have your good opinion,” he said, with a certain respect mingled with his admiring glance, “even if I have not your uncle’s.”

“Oh, he likes you well enough, or he wouldn’t have hearkened to you a minute,” she said quickly. “When you opened out about them greenbacks, I jes’ clutched my cheer SO,” she illustrated her words with a gesture of her hands, and her face actually seemed to grow pale at the recollection,–“and I nigh started up to stop ye; but that idea of Yuba Bill bein’ robbed TWICE I think tickled him awful. But it was lucky none o’ the gang heard ye or suspected anything. I reckon that’s why he sent me with you,–to keep them from doggin’ you and askin’ questions that a straight man like you would be sure to answer. But they daren’t come nigh ye as long as I’m with you!” She threw back her head and rose-crested hat with a mock air of protection that, however, had a certain real pride in it.

“I am very glad of that, if it gives me the chance of having your company alone,” returned Brice, smiling, “and very grateful to your uncle, whatever were his reasons for making you my guide. But you have already been that to me,” and he told her of the footprints. “But for you,” he added, with gentle significance, “I should not have been here.”

She was silent for a moment, and he could only see the back of her head and its heavy brown coils. After a pause she asked abruptly, “Where’s your handkerchief?”

He took it from his pocket; her ingenious uncle’s bullet had torn rather than pierced the cambric.

“I thought so,” she said, gravely examining it, “but I kin mend it as good as new. I reckon you allow I can’t sew,” she continued, “but I do heaps of mendin’, as the digger squaw and Chinamen we have here do only the coarser work. I’ll send it back to you, and meanwhiles you keep mine.”

She drew a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him. To his great surprise it was a delicate one, beautifully embroidered, and utterly incongruous to her station. The idea that flashed upon him, it is to be feared, showed itself momentarily in his hesitation and embarrassment.