“You can’t carry her with a wrenched arm,” he said, half gayly, half tauntingly, “and at the best rate she can go, it will be night before we get her home. I’m strong. I’ll carry her myself.”
Sylvie laughed protesting that she was being treated like a doll, and resigned herself to Pete’s swift, smooth stride. It was as though she were skimming through space, so quietly did his moccasined feet press the pine-needled earth, so exquisitely did his young strength save her from any jar. He whistled softly through his teeth as he ran in long, swift strides. And as he did not speak to her, she lay silent, yet strangely peaceful and happy. Hugh was left far behind. The forest fragrance moved cool and resinous against her face.
“I feel as if we could go on and on forever,” she said with a sigh, “forever and ever and ever.”
“We will,” he answered through his teeth, hardly pausing in his whistling for the odd reply. “We will.”
But for all that, he set her gently and suddenly down, and she knew that she stood again at the cabin door.
“Pete, where are you?” she asked.
But he had disappeared, still in utter silence, like a genie whose task is done.
CHAPTER X
“What did he say to you? What did he say to you?” asked Hugh again and again.