“Yes’m,” Bob pretended to be quite contrite. “I’m willing to change the subject if the next subject is something to eat.”
“I’ll get the lunch.” Julie, leaning on the staff Dan had cut for her, limped toward the kitchen, but her sister caught her and put her on the porch cot and piled pillows under her head. “Indeed not, little lady.” Jane kissed her affectionately. “It’s your turn now to pretend you are a princess and I will be your maid of waiting.”
Impulsively Julie threw her arms about her sister’s neck and clung to her as she whispered: “Oh, Janey, I love you so!” And Jane, when she arose, felt in her heart a greater happiness than had ever been there when she had received the adulation of the admiring girls at Highacres.
“And I will be your aide!” Merry, who had gone to the top of the stone stairway to look down at the road, skipped back to say, and, then, arm in arm, these two friends went, and from their merry laughter it was quite evident that Jane’s efforts as head cook were being mirthfully regarded by both of them. However, when the others were called to the back porch, where the table was set, they found as appetizing a lunch as could be desired. But underneath all her apparent pleasure Jane was sorrowing. She never again could be Jean Sawyer’s friend. He would not want her friendship if he knew how she had felt about her father’s sacrifice, but he must never, never know.
Jane glanced often at Dan during the lunch. Never had she seen him look so wonderfully happy. He had expressed his regret that Jean had departed before his return and exclaimed: “But the horse I rode also belongs to Mr. Packard. I wonder why he did not wait for it.”
“Mr. Packard told him to leave one horse with us,” his sister explained, “and more if we wished, but I thought one would be all you would want to care for.” Dan was pleased.
He said: “We have made good friends since we came here. It is hard to realize that it is not yet a fortnight ago.” Julie chimed in with: “Yep, haven’t we?” Then, beginning with one small thumb to count, “First there’s Meg Heger. Next to Janey, she’s the nicest girl I guess there is.” Merry pretended to be quite offended. “Little one, you surely are honest. You ought always to say present company excepted.”
“Oh, I do like you, Merry, awful much. You can be third. Will that be all right?” The golden haired girl laughed gaily: “Of course, I was only teasing, dear. Now who comes next?”
“Jean Sawyer and Mr. Packard and then the little spotted pony, and then my mountain lion baby.” The small girl put down her hand as she concluded. “I guess that’s all the new friends I’ve made here in the mountains.”
Bob suddenly thought of something. “Say, Dan, there is a sort of mystery about that trapper’s daughter, isn’t there? I understand that at first the old Ute Indian pretended he was her father in order to get the girl to give him money, and that this morning when he was dying he confessed that he was not.”