With a sharp cry she moved away from him, and saw that in her eagerness she had pressed against his right leg. For just a moment she was so concerned with the pain she had caused him that she did not realize the full significance of his answer. Then it came to her with a shock. She looked slowly around her: at the black forest on three sides of the little meadow; at the cliff on the other; at the terrible trail down which she 260 had come, she scarce knew how; and at the storm clouds on Thunder Mountain.
He saw the thought in her face.
“You see, it’s no use!” he said. “With a broken leg.”
She met his eyes with a clear and steady gaze; and smiled. And that look he could not read.
“Now, then, Philip!” she said at length, rising quietly to her feet. “I’ll go to work.”
“To work?” he repeated.
“Of course!” she replied, with brave lightness. “There’s a lot to do. First, there’s your leg.”
“Yes, it’s broken,” he answered sardonically.
“We’ll mend it. And the cut on your head needs to be dressed. And I’m dreadfully hungry, and––”
She stopped, and the smile fled from her face, and the strength ran from her limbs.