Susan smiled:
"The Pawnees steal horses, but I never heard anyone say they stole girls."
"They steal anything they can get," said the simple young man.
"Oh, David,"—now she was laughing—"so they might steal me if they couldn't get a horse, or a blanket, or a side of bacon! Next time I go wandering I'll take the bacon with me and then I'll be perfectly safe."
"Your father wouldn't like it. I've heard him tell you not to go off this way alone."
"Well, who could I take? I don't like to ask father to go out into the sun and Daddy John was asleep, and Leff—I didn't see Leff anywhere."
"I was there," he said, dropping his eyes.
"You were under the wagon reading Byron. I wouldn't for the world take you away from Byron."
She looked at him with a candid smile, her eyes above it dancing with delighted relish in her teasing.
"I would have come in a minute," he said low, sweeping the surface of the spring with the spray of roses. Susan's look dwelt on him, gently thoughtful in its expression in case he should look up and catch it.