e short laugh; then, springing suddenly across a fallen tree
that separated them, he caught Sylvie up into his arms.

"You can't carry her with a wrenched arm," he said, half gayly, half
tauntingly, "and at the best rate she can go, it will be night before we
get her home. I'm strong. I'll carry her myself."

Sylvie laughed protesting that she was being treated like a doll, and
resigned herself to Pete's swift, smooth stride. It was as though she
were skimming through space, so quietly did his moccasined feet press
the pine-needled earth, so exquisitely did his young strength save her
from any jar. He whistled softly through his teeth as he ran in long,
swift strides. And as he did not speak to her, she lay silent, yet
strangely peaceful and happy. Hugh was left far behind. The forest
fragrance moved cool and resinous against her face.

"I feel as if we could go on and on forever," she said with a sigh,
"forever and ever and ever."

"We will," he answered through his teeth, hardly pausing in his
whistling for the odd reply. "We will."

But for all that, he set her gently and suddenly down, and she knew that
she stood again at the cabin door.

"Pete, where are you?" she asked.

But he had disappeared, still in utter silence, like a genie whose task
is done.

CHAPTER X

"What did he say to you? What did he say to you?" asked Hugh again and
again.

Sylvie laughed at him.

"He didn't say anything--hardly a word, except that he pretended he was
going on forever. He said: 'We will, we will.' That's absolutely all,
Hugh. Don't be so silly. What _could_ he say?"

"I don't know," Hugh answered. "He might have made fun of me."

"Fun of you! After saving my life! I'd have boxed his ears! No, no,
Peter wouldn't do that. He's afraid of me."

She was so proud of this that Hugh, perforce, laughed. It was after
supper, and they had walked a little way from the cabin. They were
standing just above the river on a little hillock topped with three big
pines. The dusk was thick about them; stars pricked the soft sky. Sylvie
was wrapped in Hugh's coat, and they were linked by their hands hanging
at their sides. Every one but Sylvie had been very silent at supper, but
she had told her story of Hugh's heroism again and again until finally
even Hugh had grumbled at "the fuss."

"What makes you think anyone could be afraid of you?" He smiled down at
the small dark head which did not reach his shoulder.

"He's afraid