She made no answer, so I took her arm, and thus we commenced our walk across the valley. I found the pack without any trouble, though my heart was in my mouth for fear that we would trip over poor Cumshaw's body. But the luck was with me that night, though it hadn't been with him, and I reached the pack and hoisted it on my shoulders without either of us striking any of the victims of the fight. The sting of the wound in my shoulder made the pack an uncomfortable burden, but I bore it as best I could, for I was afraid that Moira would notice me if I kept wriggling it into an easier position. So I fought the pain all the way to the cave, which we reached in something under five minutes. Moira did not speak a word all the way, and somehow I hadn't the heart to break the news of Cumshaw's death to her. It had to be done sooner or later, I knew, but I was inclined to put it off as long as possible.
Once in the cave I built a little fire of chips and dry bracken that had somehow escaped the rain. That done I turned with a clear conscience to the task of making tea. Moira, however, had forestalled me; the billy was already full, and she but awaited me to adjust the tripod of sticks that held it in its place over the fire. It was while I was bending over doing this that she must have noticed the bloodstains on my sleeve. At any rate, when I straightened up, she looked at me with accusation in her eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me before that it was as bad as that?" she asked.
"Because it isn't," I answered with cheerful paradox. But she would have none of my jesting, and if I hadn't allowed her to wash and bind it up right away I'm afraid I wouldn't have got any tea that night. When she finished she placed her hands upon my shoulders and kissed me full on the lips.
"My dear," she said brokenly, "you would die for me, I know, and yet I so little deserve your love."
I had tact enough to suppress the banality that was trembling on my lips.
"I wonder what could have happened to Mr. Cumshaw?" she remarked about an hour later. "You'd have thought he'd have been here long ago if he was all right."
"Maybe," I said, bending my head over the fire so she would not see my tell-tale face, "maybe he's not satisfied that this is our party."
There was an interval of silence and, though I did not look up, I knew that she was regarding me steadfastly. I could feel her eyes boring into my head like twin gimlets.