"Let him come."
"Pierre!"
"I mean it."
"Then give me one promise."
"A thousand of 'em."
"Let me hunt him with you."
He stared at her with a mute wonder. She had never been so beautiful.
"Jack, what a heart you have! If you were a man we could rule the mountains, you and I."
"Even as I am, what prevents us, Pierre?"
And looking at her he forgot the sorrow which had been his ever since he looked up to the face framed with red-gold hair and the dark tree behind and the cold stars steady above it. It would come to him again, but now it was gone, and he murmured, smiling: "I wonder?"