He did not tell his reason for leaving the mountains altogether, for
Mavis, too, was a girl, and he did not confide in women—not yet.
But the girl was woman enough to remember that the last time she had seen him he had said that he was going to come for her some day. There was no sign of that resolution, however, in either his manner or his words now, and for some reason she was rather glad.
"Every boy wears clothes like that up here. They calls 'em knickerbockers."
"Huh!" grunted Jason. "Hit sounds like 'em."
"Air ye still shootin' at that ole tree?"
"Yep, an' I kin hit the belly-band two shots out o' three."
Mavis raised her dark eyes with a look of apprehension, for she knew what that meant; when he could hit it three times running he was going after the man who had killed his father. But she asked no more questions, for while the boy could not forbear to boast about his marksmanship, further information was beyond her sphere and she knew it.
When they came to the lane leading to her home, Jason turned down it of his own accord.
"How'd you know whar we live?"
"I was here this mornin' an' I seed my mammy. Yo' daddy wasn't thar."