“Will Mr. Hirsch find us here?” she said, as she took her lips from his face.
“If he comes he will find a bullet here,” replied the old man; then added, “you said that you wanted to eat?”
“Oh, yes, very much.”
The squatter, raking in the ashes of the fire, took out a fine leg of venison, the pleasant odor of which filled the air. Then they sat down to eat.
The night was gorgeous; the moon came out high in the heavens above the cañon; in the thicket the mavis began to sing sweetly; the fire burned brightly, and Orso was so filled with joy that he chanted with gladness. Both he and the girl ate heartily. The old man had no appetite; he looked upon little Jenny, and, for some unknown cause, his eyes were filled with tears.
Perhaps he had been once a father, or, perhaps, he so rarely saw people in these deserted mountains.
Since then these three lived together.