"Why do you go?" I demanded.
He came back at once. "What can I do for you, monsieur?"
His gentleness shamed my shortness of speech. "It was nothing," I replied. "The truth is, it was pleasant to have you here beside me." I laughed at my own folly. "Starling, I will put you in man's dress to-morrow!" I cried.
He turned away. "As you like, monsieur. I think myself it would be best. Will you get out the clothes to-night?"
But I stared at him. "Why blush about it, Starling?" I shrugged. I felt some disdain of his sensitiveness. "I did not mean to twit you. I understand that you have worn the squaw's dress to help us. But I think that the necessity for disguise is past. I see the skirts embarrass you."
He turned to look at me fairly. "I am not blushing, monsieur," he explained, with a great air of candor. "It is the heat of the afternoon;" but even as he spoke the red flowed from chin to forehead, and when I looked at him with another laugh, his eyes fell before mine.
I rose on my elbow. "Starling! Starling!" I cried. He made no sound. His head drooped, and I saw him clench his hand. I stared. He threw his head back, but when he tried to meet my look he failed. Yet I looked again. "My God!" I heard my voice say, and my teeth bit into my lip. I could smell the flowers in my hand, but they seemed a long distance away. "My God!" I cried again, and I rose and felt my way into the woods with the step of a blind man.
CHAPTER XI
MARY STARLING
I do not know how long I walked, nor where, but the sun dropped some space. When I returned to the camp, I found the men before me. They had returned early, empty-handed, and were in an ill humor because the Englishman was away, and there was nothing done. I commanded Pierre to build a larger fire than usual, and keep it piled high till I returned. Then I began a search for footprints.