“She is afraid of her Daddy. He is mean to her. Once he came when she was with me and he was very, very mad. He cut a stick with his knife and he hit her with it. She told me to run away quick and I did. He was a very bad man, Dardie. I was afraid of him, too. He won’t come after us?”
“NO!”
He persuaded Dessie to sleep again and when she awoke he knew that he must have rest himself and soon. Impressing upon her how much their lives depended on it, he told her to watch the tree and awaken him if anyone came.
It was sunset when he aroused from an uneasy, nightmare-haunted sleep. Dessie squatted quietly beside him, her small grave face turned to the trail. As he shifted his weight she glanced up.
“There was just a bunny,” she pointed to small betraying tracks. “But no people, Dard. Is—is there any bread left? I’m hungry.”
“Sure you are!” He crawled out of the shelter and stretched cramped limbs before unwrapping the remains of Lotta’s bounty.
In spite of her vaunted hunger Dessie ate slowly, as if savoring each crumb. The light was fading fast, although there were still red streaks in the sky. Tonight they must remain here—but tomorrow? If Lotta’s return of the rifle to the barn did not stop the search—then tomorrow the fugitives would have to take to the trail again.
“Is it going to snow again, Dardie?”
He studied the sky. “I don’t think so. I wish it would.”
“Why? When the snow is so deep, it’s hard to walk.”