"It's a shame the way they plague you!" she exclaimed warmly.
"Oh, it's nothing, now," replied Sam. "I can stand anything now that I've got a man's job. I'll make good yet. I think I can see a difference already. I think about it day and night. It's my dream. I mean, making good with these fellows. It isn't that I care so much about them either. But after what's happened. I've got to make them respect me!"
And so on, in entire innocence. Sam was aware of no feelings toward her save gratitude and friendliness. Nevertheless, it would not have been the first time it happened, if these safe and simple feelings had suddenly landed him in an inextricable coil. Men are babies in such matters.
But nothing happened this night. Sam walked back with her to the foot of the hill, and they parted without touching hands.
"Shan't I see you through the wood?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Some one might see from the house. There's plenty of light yet. To-morrow night at the same time?"
"All right," said Sam.
She stood watching until he disappeared among the willows, then turned to mount the shallow hill. Down among the trunks of the big pines it was gloomier than she had expected. The patches of bright sky seemed immeasurably far overhead. The wood was full of whispers. She began to be sorry that she had let him go so soon, and hastened her steps.
Suddenly, as she neared the top of the hill, a human figure materialized in the trail before her. She was too much startled to scream. She stopped, petrified with terror, struggling to draw her breath. Its shadowy face was turned toward her. It was a very creature of night, still and voiceless. It blocked the way she had to pass. Her limbs shook under her, and a low moan of terror escaped her breast.
Finding a little strength at last, she made to dart among the trees so that she could encircle the apparition.