Ross, also, became more cheerful. Perhaps he had missed her companionship more than he would own—more than he knew. At any rate he was happier when she was at his side—when her violet eyes looked trustingly into his own gray ones, and her artless prattle fell upon his ear.
One day in the early part of the month, Bradford entered the hut and remarked:
“Douglas, I have your gun here—the one I took from you at Wildcat Creek. Do you want it?”
“Certainly,” Ross replied with animation.
“You can have it—and this pouch of ammunition—on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That you don’t try to escape again.”
“I won’t try to escape—for the present.”
“That’s rather indefinite,” laughed the older man. “Explain.”
“When I have determined to make another attempt, I’ll apprise you of the fact. Is that satisfactory?”