l something which he saw
looking at him so clearly out of her soul brought the truth to Jolly
Roger, before she had spoken.

"I'm goin' with you and Peter."

The low cry that came from Jolly Roger was almost a sob as he stepped
back from her. He looked away from her--at Peter. But her pale face, her
parted red lips, her wide-open, wonderful eyes, her radiant hair stirred
by the wind--came between them. She was no longer the little girl--"past
seventeen, goin' on eighteen." To Jolly Roger she was all that the world
held of glorious womanhood.

"But--you can't!" he cried desperately. "I've come to tell you things,
Nada. I'm not fit. I'm not what you think I am. I've been livin' a
lie--"

He hesitated, and then lashed himself on to the truth.

"You'll hate me when I tell you, Nada. You think Jed Hawkins is bad.
But the law thinks I'm worse. The police want me. They've wanted me
for years. That's why I came down here, and hid over in Indian Tom's
cabin--near where I first met you. I thought they wouldn't find me away
down here, but they did. That's why Peter and I moved over to the big
rock-pile at the end of the Ridge. I'm--an outlaw. I've done a lot of
bad things--in the eyes of the law, and I'll probably die with a bullet
in me, or in jail. I'm sorry, but that don't help. I'd give my life
to be able to tell you what's in my heart. But I can't. It wouldn't be
square."

He wondered why no change came into the steady blue of her eyes as he
went on with the truth. The pallor was gone from her cheeks. Her lips
seemed redder, and what he was saying did not seem to startle her, or
frighten her.

"Don't you understand, Nada?" he cried. "I'm bad. The police want me.
I'm a fugitive--always running away, always hiding--an outlaw--"

She nodded.

"I know it, Mister Roger," she said quietly. "I heard you tell Peter
that a long time ago. And Mister Cassidy was at our place the day after
you and Peter ran away from Indian Tom's cabin, and I showed him the
way to Father John's, and he told me a lot about you, and he told Father
John a lot more, and it made me awful proud of you, Mister Roger--and I
want to go with you and Peter!"

"Proud!" gasped Jolly Roger. "Proud, of ME--"

She nodded again.

"Mister Cassidy--the policeman--he used just the word you used a minute
ago. He said you was square, even when you robbed other people. He said
he had to get you in jail if he could, but he hoped he never would. He
said he'd lik