n he surveyed her in a particularizing way, as he did
swiftly, there was an exquisiteness about her that gave him pleasureable
thrills. But it was all wild. Even her hair, an amazing glory of tangled
curls, was wild in its disorder; she seemed palpitating with that
wildness, like a fawn that had been run into a corner--no, not a fawn,
but some beautiful creature that could and would fight desperately if
need be. That was his impression. He was undergoing a smashing of his
conceptions of this girl as he had visioned her from the picture, and a
readjustment of her as she existed for him now. And he was not
disappointed. He had never seen anything quite like this Marge O'Doone
and her bear. _O'Doone!_ His mind had harked back quickly, at her
mention of that name, to the woman in the coach of the Transcontinental,
the woman who was seeking a man by the name of Michael O'Doone. Of
course the woman was her mother. Her name, too, must have been O'Doone.

Very slowly the girl detached herself from her bear, and came until she
stood within three steps of David.

"Tara won't hurt you," she assured him again, "unless I scream. He would
tear you to pieces, then."

If she had betrayed a sudden fear at his first appearance, it was gone
now. Her eyes were like dark rock-violets and again he thought them the
bluest and most fearless eyes he had ever seen. She was less a child
now, standing so close to him; her slimness made her appear taller than
she was. David knew that she was going to question him, and before she
could speak he asked:

"Why are you afraid of some one coming after you from the Nest, as you
call it?"

"Because," she replied with quiet fearlessness, "I am running away from
it."

"Running away!" he gasped. "How long...."

"Two days."

He understood now--her ragged moccasins, her frayed skirt, her tangled
hair, the look of exhaustion about her. It came upon him all at once
that she was standing unsteadily, swaying slightly like the slender stem
of a flower stirred by a breath of air, and that he had not noticed
these things because of the steadiness and clearness of her wonderful
eyes. He was at her side in an instant. He forgot the bear. His hand
seized hers--the one with the deep, red scratch on it--and drew her to a
flat rock a few steps away. She followed him, keeping her eyes on him in
a wondering sort of way. The grizzly's reddish eyes were on David. A few
yards away Baree was lying flat on his belly betw