“Thank you,” she said. “But I’m a little angry—you shouldn’t have gone. I should never have forgiven myself if you had got hurt.”
There was light enough to show that the blood crept into his face; but he turned and glanced at the descending ledge.
“You had better put your hand on my shoulder where it’s steep,” he suggested. “Still, we’re not going to have much trouble in getting down.”
They had reached level ground before anything more was said, and then she turned to him with a smile.
“Why didn’t you come before? You left me an unpleasantly long while among the rocks.”
“We didn’t miss you until supper,” he explained. “Then I set off at once, but I didn’t know which way to look and the bush was pretty thick.” Stopping in the moonlight, he indicated his rent attire. “I think this speaks for itself,” he added humorously. “There’s one consolation—the things belong to Carew.”
Millicent was glad that he was not going to be serious.
“I remember that you didn’t bring much of an outfit,” she replied. “I suppose you had one. What became of it?”
“I left it behind, in pieces, on the thorns and rocks along a good many leagues of trail; but it wasn’t extensive—when you travel in this country you have often to choose between food and clothes. It was obviously impossible to buy any more, but the day before we reached camp I made Crestwick cut my hair. After a look at myself in Nasmyth’s pocket-glass, I’m inclined to think he was unwarrantably proud of his success.”
After that they chatted lightly, until they walked into the glow of the camp-fire, and while Bella and Miss Hume plied Millicent with questions and congratulations, Lisle took up Nasmyth’s repeating rifle and fired it several times.