"Then we had better go on. It's not
very much further now."
"But why not here?" she cried insistently in sudden irritation that upon
all matters this man dictated to her and dictated so assuredly. "One
place is as good as another."
"This one isn't, Miss Waverly. There's a tough lot here, and there are
no women among them. So we'll have to make it to Smith's. Do you want to
rest a while?"
"No," she cried sharply. "Let's hurry and get it over with!"
He inclined his head gravely and they went on. And again her anger rose
against this man who seemed over and over to wish to remind her that he
was a gentleman. As though she had forgotten any little incident
connected with him!
Again they made their way through lights and shadows, down into ragged
cuts in the hills, over knolls and ridges, through a forest where
raindrops were still dripping from the thick leaves and where she knew
that without him she never could have found her way. And not once more
did they speak to each other until, unexpectedly for her, they came out
of the wood and fairly upon a squat cabin with a light running out to
meet them through the square of a window.
"Smith's place," he informed her briefly.
Already three dogs had run to meet them, with much barking and simulated
fierceness, and a man and a woman had come to the door.
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