“I had to—to lead Marg to Devil-may-come Hollow. She’s hunting there now!” Nella-Rose’s white teeth showed in a mischievous smile. “We’re right safe with Marg down there, scurrying around. Come, I know a sunny place—I want to tell you about Marg.”
Her childish appropriation of him completed Truedale’s surrender. The absolute lack of self-consciousness drove the last remnant of caution away. They found the sunny spot—it was like a dimple in a hill that had caught the warmth and brightness and held them always to the exclusion of shadows. It almost seemed that night could never conquer the nook.
And while they rested there, Nella-Rose told him of the belief of the natives that he was the refugee Lawson.
“And Marg would give you up like—er—this” (Nella-Rose puffed an imaginary trifle away with her pretty pursed lips). “She trailed after me all day—she lost me in a place where hiding’s good—and there I left her! She’ll tell Jed Martin this evening when she gets back. Marg is scenting Burke for Jed and his kind to catch—that’s her way and Jed’s!” Stinging contempt rang in the girl’s voice.
“But not your way I bet, Nella-Rose.” The fun, not the danger, of the situation struck Truedale.
“No!—I’d do it all myself! I’d either warn him and have done with it, or I’d stand by him.”
“I’m not sure that I like the misunderstanding about me,” Truedale half playfully remarked, “they may shoot me in the back before they find out.”
“Do you” (and here Nella-Rose’s face fell into serious, dangerously sweet, lines), “do you reckon I would leave you to them-all if there was that danger? They don’t aim to shoot or string Burke up; they reckon they’ll take him alive and—get him locked up in jail to—to—”
“What, Nella-Rose?”
“Die of longing!”
“Is that what would happen to Burke Lawson?”
The girl nodded. Then the entrancing mischief returned to her eyes and she became a child once more—a creature so infinitely young that Truedale seemed grandfatherly by comparison.
“Can’t you see how mighty funny it will be to lead them and let them follow on and then some day—they’ll plump right up on you and find out! Godda’mighty!”
Irresponsible mirth swayed the girl to and fro. She laughed, silently, until the tears stood in the clear eyes. Truedale caught the spirit of her mood and laughed with her. The picture she portrayed of setting jealousy, malice, and stupidity upon the wrong trail was very funny, but suddenly he paused and said seriously:
“But in the meantime this Burke Lawson may return; you may be the death of him with your pranks.”
Nella-Rose shook her head. “I would know!” she declared confidently. “I know everything that’s going on in the hills. Burke would let me know—first!”
“It’s like melodrama,” Truedale murmured half to himself. By some trick of fancy he seemed to be looking on as Brace Kendall might have. The thought brought him to bay. What would good old Brace do in the present situation?