She said no more, but taking the kettle, walked down to the river, humming to herself a gay little chanson.
"Qui va là! There's someone in the orchard,
There's a robber in the apple-trees,
Qui va là! He is creeping through the doorway.
Ah, allez-vous-en! va-t'-en!"
He watched her go, with a soft light gleaming in his hard blue eyes, then he turned and began to busy himself with preparations for breakfast. When the meal was finished, he went through the stores and his personal possessions.
"We can't take them all," he explained. "I know my limit, and sixty pounds is as much as I can carry along if I am to travel steadily, without too many rests. We shall have to cache a goodish bit."
"You are forgetting me, aren't you?" asked the girl, quietly. "I'm fairly strong, you know."
"But——"
"I think I must insist," she interrupted with a smile. "You are doing all this for me; and quite apart from that, I shall be glad to know what the trail is like under real conditions."