Keefe wanted to lend her his mount, but at his offer she frowned with vexation.
“I don’t want to be plagued,” she said sullenly, and set off down the road. Her strong, short body moved over the ground with astonishing swiftness; and as she took advantage of every cut-off, leaving the riders to go around by the road, she soon proved that they would not be obliged to waste time by waiting for her. The Gap was quickly crossed and she turned up a shoulder of Dundee Mountain, where for an hour the blowing horses had a hard climb. Then came a canter along the almost level table-top of the mountain, till, having reached the end of the plateau, the road began to descend. The great mountain reached out many arms, each of which bore a name; and it was along one of these wooded reaches that Paralee led them. By noon, a narrow valley was reached; and here, beside a pleasant stream, the green solitude all about them, they dismounted for their luncheon and to rest themselves and their horses.
Paralee would not eat with them, though she accepted the luncheon Azalea offered her. She walked away to a shady spot, turned her back upon her companions and munched her food alone.
“Why does she do it?” Carin asked. It was Haystack who knew the answer.
“She does it because she’s as proud as Lucifer,” he said sympathetically.
“She does it,” echoed Azalea, “because she’s afraid her manners won’t be like ours.”
“She does it because she is unhappy,” said Keefe. “I have been unhappy, and I know.”
It was the first time he had made a reference to his past life.
But now there was another mountain to climb. It was low, long, and dull-looking, and so heavily wooded that there was little outlook. Azalea said she believed that it was the only mountain she ever had seen which she did not care for. The road was so bad that it was impossible for a wagon to pass over it; and even the horses had trouble making their way. Only Paralee, grown up in that tangle, knew how to thread it with ease. It was one of the few things which she did know well, and as she went on, showing no sign of weariness, her awkwardness and shyness began to drop from her. She was on her own ground—the ground where she and her people had fought their lonely fight for life; and she was carrying help to those whose sorrows had been a savage grief to her.
Presently they reached a ragged clearing, stumbled past it to an ill-kept garden, passed a number of pig pens and a large chicken yard, and came upon the place that Paralee Panther called home. It had been rather a pleasant cabin, once, perhaps, in the old days when Thomas Panther had brought his bride there and had “aimed” to be a farmer and woodsman. But the roof now hardly gave shelter from the storms, the shutters sagged from the unglassed windows, the steps had rotted away, and one mounted to the floor by means of ill-chosen stones which had been placed before the door, and which rocked when they were stepped upon.