“You run along, small girl of mine—­the skies are clear, the sun warm—­but I want you to meet me at three o’clock at the spot where the trail joins the road.  I will be there and I will wait for you.”

“But why?—­why?” The blue-gray eyes were troubled.

“Sweetheart, we’re going to find that minister of yours if we have to travel from one end of the hills to the other!”

“But we-all are married!” This with a little gasp.  “Back on the hill, when you told God and said He understood; then we-all were married.”

“And so we were, my sweet, no minister could make you more mine than you already are, but the others—­your people.  Should they try to separate us they might cause trouble and the minister can make it impossible for any one to take you away from my love and care.”

And at that moment Truedale actually believed what he said.  In his heart he had always been a rebel—­defiant and impotent.  He had, in this instance, proved his theories; but he did not intend to leave loose ends that might endanger the safety of others—­of this young girl, most of all.  He was only going to carry out his original plans for her safety—­not his own.  After the days just past—­days of anxiety, relief, and the proving of his love and hers—­no doubt remained in Truedale’s heart; he was of the hills, now and forever!

“No one can—­now!” This came passionately from Nella-Rose as she watched him.

“They might make trouble until they found that out.  They’re too free with their guns.  There’s a lot to explain, little doney-gal.”  Conning smiled down her doubts.

“Until three o’clock!” Nella-Rose pouted, “that’s a right long time.  But I’ll—­just run along.  Always and always I’m going to do what you say!” Already his power over her was absolute.  She put her arms out with a happy, wilful gesture and Truedale held her closer.

“Only until three, sweetheart.”

Nella-Rose drew herself away and turned to pick up her little shawl and hat from the couch by the fire; she was just reaching for her basket, when a shadow fell across the floor.  Truedale and the girl turned and confronted—­Jim White!  What he had seen and heard—­who could tell from his expressionless face and steady voice?  The door had been on the latch and he had come in!

“Mail, and truck, and rabbits!” he explained, tossing his load upon the table.  Then he turned toward Truedale as if noticing him for the first time.

“How-de?” he said.  Finally his gaze shifted to Nella-Rose and seemed to burn into her soul.

“Goin’, p’r’aps, or—­comin’?” he questioned.

“I—­I am—­going!” Fright and dismay marked the girl’s voice.  Truedale went toward her.  The covert brutality in White’s words shocked and angered him.  He gave no thought to the cause, but he resented the insult.

“Wait!” he commanded, for Nella-Rose was gone through the open door.  “Wait!”