"Do not weep for that," he said. "I will tell you what every party is like, little girl. A party is an occasion when somebody else has a prettier dress than yours, and somebody else dances with your favorite beau once more than you did, and when you get home you are mad, and say you wouldn't have gone if you had known it, so there!"
"I don't believe it," wept Jaquelina, obstinately, "at least, not all of it. It may be true about the dress. I know Violet Earle's will be ever so much prettier than mine, but I should never, never wish I had not gone there."
Ah, Jaquelina, Jaquelina! If those dark eyes, dimmed now with childish tears, could but have pierced the secret of the untried future!
"She is but a simple child," the outlaw said to himself, pityingly. "Only a little wild bird. I have caged it, but it would never sing for me. I must let it fly back to its nest."
He touched the girl's damp, clinging curls lightly.
"Miss Meredith, look up at me," he said.
Jaquelina lifted her wet eyes inquiringly.
"Cannot you leave me in peace?" she asked, shrinking from his light touch impatiently.
He did not appear to notice the pretty, childish petulance.
"Little bird," he said, "I will give you your freedom if you will promise me just one thing—you will not reveal the secret of this cavern retreat to my enemies? It is the only price by which you can purchase freedom."