"Nance," said Jean François, extending his hand to her, "you are always pretty nearly right. You might have shown more wisdom by not carrying things so far as to run away like a spoiled child.... Here's my hand. I'm with you.... Now tell me how you got here?"
While she entered into the details of her trip he busied himself with hitching Rogue to the cart and turning the face of the caravan about to the north. She had learned through a note, requiring an answer, which Jean François had written to Doctor Longstreet, that he would call about the first of June for his mail at the little town which lay behind them in the valley. She had arrived the night before, and, after learning at the post-office that he had not called, she, doubtless very foolishly, but with her old-time adventurous spirit, had started out to meet him.
"Come, let's be going," said he. And he helped her onto a little apron-like seat which projected over the shafts and had for a back the front of the body of the van.
"All right, Rogue," said Jean François for the second time that morning, and they were off.
Then it was Nance seemed to discover that they had turned and were going back up the hill from which he had descended only two hours before.
"Where are we going, Jean François?" she asked with slight alarm.
"Back to Dr. Charles Reubelt King," he smiled, "to teach him how not to be a fool!"
Nance frowned for a moment, but saw the old friendly strength restored to the face of the man walking at Rogue's flank, and with a contented little sigh she sank back into the comfortable cushions of Columbine.