“I’ve paid a big price for you this night,” he went on, more gently, “and it isn’t to a cur of that kind that I’ll be giving you. MacLeod, here’s your lantern! Away, now!”
“And I’ll go, I say, if you’ll tell me they’ve lied. Colin, darling, tell me!” But he started away, spurred by a ripping oath from the Honorable Pulaski. She tore herself from the restraining grasp of Wade and ran after her lover.
At her movement, Abe, cowering in the gloom away from the torch-lighted area of ledge, started behind her with canine loyalty. He had followed her into the fire zone when his mother had screamed command into his ear. His mother and this girl, her protégée, were the only ones who ever looked at him without disgust.
“Abe!” shouted “Ladder” Lane. He spoke in a peculiar tone—a tone in which the fool evidently recognized something of an old-time authority; for he uttered a little bleat, in curious contrast with his giant bulk, and halted. “Fire, Abe!” cried Lane, brandishing his arm in the direction of the distant flamings. “Mother want her saved from fire. Fetch, Abe!”
It was a tone of authority that the witling recognized, and it commanded his weak will and giant strength. He sped after the girl, seized her in spite of her furious protest, and bore her back to the cabin, her struggles exciting only his amiable grins.
Lane rushed him and his burden into his hut.
“Now, Abe, mother say watch her. No go into the fire! Watch till I come!” He came out with placid confidence that his order would be obeyed, and the mien of the giant gave excellent confirmation.
“Men,” he said, grimly, looking round on their faces, “I’d rather trust that girl to the fool than to all of the rest of humankind; but I’ve had reasons in my life to distrust men, and the higher the men the more I distrust them. Don’t any of you interfere in that duet in there. There’s only one thing that I ask you to do here till I come back—whoever stays here—feed the animals. You can’t corrupt them.” He was “Ladder” Lane once more, sour in his satire.
“Where are you going, Lane?” demanded Britt.
The old man shook a telephone cut-in sender at him.