"I wasn't afraid then. I was--glad.
No, I wouldn't scream--not even if you held me like Brokaw did!"
He felt the warm blood rising under his skin again. It was impossible to
keep it down. And he was ashamed of it--ashamed of the thought that for
an instant was in his mind. The soul of the wild, little mountain
creature was in her eyes. Her lips made no concealment of its thoughts
or its emotions, pure as the blue skies above them and as ungoverned by
conventionality as the winds that shifted up and down the valleys. She
was a new sort of being to him, a child-woman, a little wonder-nymph
that had grown up with the flowers. And yet not so little after all. He
had noticed that the top of her shining head came considerably above his
chin.
"Then you will not be afraid to go back to the Nest--with me?" he asked.
"No," she said with a direct and amazing confidence. "But I'd rather run
away with you." Then she added quickly, before he could speak: "Didn't
you say you came all that way--hundreds of miles--to find _me_? Then why
must we go back?"
He explained to her as clearly as he could, and as reason seemed to
point out to him. It was impossible, he assured her, that Brokaw or
Hauck or any other man could harm her now that he was here to take care
of her and straighten matters out.
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