“Because,” he said almost fiercely, turning upon her, “because you screamed, and then I knew it had frightened you!” He stopped instantly as she momentarily recoiled from him, but the very brusqueness of his action had dislodged a tear from his dark eyes that fell warm on the back of her hand, and seemed to blot out the indignity.  “Listen, Miss,” he went on hurriedly, as if to cover up his momentary unmanliness.  “I knew the bear was missing to-night, and when I heard the horses scurrying about I reckoned what was up.  I knew no harm could come to you, for the horses were unharnessed and away from the wagon.  I pelted down that trail ahead of them all like grim death, calkilatin’ to get there before the bear; they wouldn’t have understood me; I was too high up to call to the creature when he did come out, and I kinder hoped you wouldn’t see him.  Even when he turned towards the wagon, I knew it wasn’t you he was after, but suthin’ else, and I kinder hoped, Miss, that you, being different and quicker-minded than the rest, would see it too.  All the while them folks were yellin’ behind me to fire—­as if I didn’t know my work.  I was half-way down—­and then you screamed!  And then I forgot everything,—­everything but standing clear of hitting you,—­and I fired.  I was that savage that I wanted to believe that he’d gone mad, and would have touched you, till I got down there and found the honey-pot lying alongside of him.  But there,—­it’s all over now!  I wouldn’t have let on a word to you only I couldn’t bear to take your thanks for it, and I couldn’t bear to have you thinking me a brute for dodgin’ them.”  He stopped, walked to the fire, leaned against the chimney under the shallow pretext of kicking the dull embers into a blaze, which, however, had only the effect of revealing his two glistening eyes as he turned back again and came towards her.  “Well,” he said, with an ineffectual laugh, “it’s all over now, it’s all in the day’s work, I reckon,—­and now, Miss, if you’re ready, and will just fix yourself your own way so as to ride easy, I’ll carry you down.”  And slightly bending his strong figure, he dropped on one knee beside her with extended arms.

Now it is one thing to be carried up a hill in temperate, unconscious blood and practical business fashion by a tall, powerful man with steadfast, glowering eyes, but quite another thing to be carried down again by the same man, who has been crying, and when you are conscious that you are going to cry too, and your tears may be apt to mingle.  So Miss Amy Forester said:  “Oh, wait, please!  Sit down a moment.  Oh, Mr. Tenbrook, I am so very, very sorry,” and, clapping her hand to her eyes, burst into tears.

“Oh, please, please don’t, Miss Forester,” said Jack, sitting down on the end of the bunk with frightened eyes, “please don’t do that!  It ain’t worth it.  I’m only a brute to have said anything.”