A drunken shout sounded through the forest.
“An Indian spree is worse than a white man’s,” remarked Hollis. “But you ain’t afraid, I see that!” He looked at her admiringly.
“I’m only afraid of one thing in the world,” replied Eve, taking, woman-like, the comfort of a confession which no one could understand.
“Can you shoot?” Hollis went on.—“Fire a pistol?”
She blanched.
“There, now, never mind. ’Twas only a chance question.”
“No, tell me. I can shoot perfectly well; as well as a man.”
“Then I’ll give you my pistol. You’ll have no occasion to use it, not the least in the world; but still you’ll be armed.”
“Put it on the table. I can get it if necessary.”