"
"Now you go back on his trail? It is death for Pierre?"
"You say you hate him?"
"Ah, but as deeply as that?" she questioned herself.
"It may not be death for Pierre. I have ridden the ranges many years
and met them all in time, but never one like him. Listen: six years
ago I met him first and then he wounded me--the first time any man has
touched me. And afterward I was afraid, Mary, for the first time in my
life, for the charm was broken. For six years I could not return, but
now I am at his heels. Six are gone; he will be the last to go."
"What are you?" she cried. "Some bloodhound reincarnated?"
He said: "That is the mildest name I have ever been called."
CHAPTER 36
"Give up the trail of Pierre."
And there, brought face to face with the mortal question, even her
fear burned low in her, and once more she remembered the youth who
would not leave her in the snow, but held her in his arms with the
strange cross above them.
She said simply: "I still love him."
A faint glimmer came to her through the dark and she could see deeper
into the shrubbery, for now the moon stood up on the top of the great
peak above them and flung a faint light into the hollow.
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