"I will show you."
He picked her up as he spoke, and stepped carefully into the water. The center of the stream was sufficiently deep to hide his trail, even had the bottom been less favorable than it was. But this was hard, gravelly and pebbly, and he walked close to the edge without fear of betraying himself.
Having gone a considerable distance, he approached the bank, and made a leap which carried him several feet upon it. He alighted upon the face of a large, firmly-fixed stone, where, poising himself for a moment, he sprung to another; and then, making a fourth leap, came down upon the ground. By this artifice he avoided leaving any visible trail until so far from the creek that almost any pursuer would fail to discover it. This explains why his two pursuers did fail in pursuing him.
"We're safe again for a while," said the Rifleman. "Any one who comes upon our track must do it between us and the creek."
"I feel greatly relieved," said Edith.
"And much more comfortable, I suppose?"
"Why, of course," she replied, half laughing, as she turned her gleaming, radiant face up to his.
The Rifleman hardly knew what he did. A mist seemed to come before his eyes, and he felt as though floating in space, as, acting under an electrifying impulse, he stooped and kissed the warm lips of his fair companion. This transport of bliss was changed to the most utter misery when she answered, with every appearance of anger:
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself to take advantage of my helplessness."
"Are you offended?" he asked, his very voice showing his wretchedness of feeling.