Once he said that he loved me, Jack, but he left me because
of a strange superstition; and so I've followed to tell him that I
want to be near no matter what fate hangs over him."
And the boy, whiter still, and whiter, looked at her with clearing,
narrowing eyes.
"So you're one of them," said the boy softly; "you're one of the fools
who listen to Red Pierre. Well, I know you; I've known you from the
minute I seen you crouched there at the fire. You're the one Pierre
met at the dance at the Crittenden schoolhouse. Tell me!"
"Yes," said Mary, marveling greatly.
"And he told you he loved you?"
"Yes." It was a fainter voice now, and the color was going up her
cheeks.
The lad fixed her with his cold scorn and then turned on his heel and
slipped into an easy position on the bunk.
"Then wait for him to come. He'll be here before morning."
But Mary followed across the room and touched the shoulder of Jack. It
was as if she touched a wild wolf, for the lad whirled and struck her
hand away in an outburst of silent fury.
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