This was unanswerable. Jack could only hang his head again.
"I will not be friends with you secretly," Mary went on. "Nor can I lay myself open to her abuse. So we must not see each other any more."
"I need you!" Jack blurted out. His pride was hauled down. It was the first appeal for help that had passed his lips.
"I—I'm sorry," she faltered, but without relenting. "Watch Jean Paul well," she went on. "He can't keep the man hypnotized always. Get Garrod away from him if you can."
Jack scarcely heard. "I'm under arrest," he said. "You're leaving me without a friend in camp."
"You have her," said Mary softly, with an indescribable look; compassion, reproach or disdain—or all three.
"Mary!" he burst out.
She jerked her bridle rein out of his hand, and clapped heels to her horse's ribs. "This does no good," she muttered. "And it hurts! Come, Davy." She loped out of sight among the trees.
Davy lingered. Leaning out of the saddle he put his arm around Jack's shoulders. The boy was near tears. "Jack, what's the matter?" he begged to know. "I want to stay. I feel so bad about it. I don't understand. Why can't we be friends like we were before? Mary won't tell me anything. We think such a heap of you, Jack. The other girl—she's nothing to you, is she? Mary's worth a dozen of her. There's nobody like Mary. Why can't you and Mary——"
This was like a knife turned in Jack's breast. "Get along with you!" he said harshly. "You don't know what you're talking about." Disengaging himself from the boy's arm, he clapped the horse's haunch, and the animal sprang ahead. The pack-horses lumped after.