don't--I'll take back my promise, and won't stay," he added.

"Then--I'll promise," she said. "If he does it, I'll tell you. But I
ain't--I mean I am not afraid, except for Peter. Jed Hawkins will sure
kill him if I take him back, Mister Roger. Will you keep him here?
And--o-o-o-h!--if I could only stay, too--"

The words came from her in a frightened breath, and in an instant a
flood of color rushed like fire into her cheeks. But Jolly Roger turned
again to the stove, and made as if he had not seen the blush or heard
her last words, so that the shame of her embarrassment was gone as
quickly as it had come.

"Yes, I'll keep Peter," he said over his shoulder. And in his heart
another voice which she could not hear, was crying, "And I'd give my
life if I could keep you!"

Devouring his bits of partridge breast, Peter watched Jolly Roger and
Nada out of the corner of his eye as they left the cabin half an hour
later. It was dark when they went, and Jolly Roger closed only the
mosquito-screen, leaving the door wide open, and Peter could hear their
footsteps disappearing slowly into the deep gloom of the forest. It was
a little before moonrise, and under the spruce and cedar and thick
balsam the world was like a black pit. It was very still, and except
for the soft tread of their own feet and the musical ripple of water in
the creek there was scarcely a sound in this first hour of the night.
In Jolly Roger there rose something of exultation, for Nada's warm
little hand lay in his as he guided her through the darkness, and her
fingers had clasped themselves tightly round his thumb. She was very
close to him when he paused to make sure of the unseen trail, so close
that her cheek rested against his arm, and--bending a little--his lips
touched the soft ripples of her hair. But he could not see her in the
gloom, and his heart pounded fiercely all the way to the ford.

Then he laughed a strange little laugh that was not at all like Jolly
Roger.

"I'll try and not let you get wet again, Nada," he said.

Her fingers still held to his thumb, as if she was afraid of losing him
there in the blackness that lay about them like a great ink-blotch. And
she crept closer to him, saying nothing, and all the power in his soul
fought in Jolly Roger to keep him from putting his arms about her slim
little body and crying out the worship that was in him.

"I ain't--I mean I'm not afraid of gettin' wet," he heard her whisper
then. "You're