“Won’t need it, anyway.”
Muttering it, he sent a satisfied glance around the plateau. All last evening while they were climbing over the first heights into the valley, then on up here, he had searched for just such a place.
“No, I won’t need it.”
Repeating it, he kneeled beside the sleepers and looked closely into Lee’s face, pale from exhaustion, but spirited as ever, and as sweet. He knew it for the last time—just as Sliver had known it; as Jake. Like Sliver, he would have loved to say farewell. But just as Sliver had repressed the desire to save her pain so Bull sealed his self-denial with a heavy shake of the head.
“Twould on’y break them up an’ do me no good.”
Very gently he woke up Gordon. “Don’t wake her till I’m through telling. It will soon be daylight. With it they’ll be on top of us again. The border’s over there—on’y a few miles.” With heavy steadiness he went on with the last fine lie: “I’m keeping the bulk of the ammunition, an’ I’ll stay here, for a whiles, to hold them off. But don’t you wait for me. She’s well rested now; so keep going and going till you’ve crossed.”
Reaching up, Gordon took Bull’s hand in a strong grip. “I suppose there’s no use asking you to let me stay?”
“No.” Bull shook his head. “An’ if I would—she wouldn’t! Now wake her up.”
Sleep had revived her wonderfully. She chatted quite cheerfully while making their last small arrangements. All day yesterday Bull had covered their retreats, and there was nothing unusual in his staying behind. Yet when, looking back as she and Gordon moved off, she saw Bull standing there, perhaps with some presentiment she ran hastily back.
“Oh, won’t you come?” she pleaded.