"Not hardly. They would have to search on foot here. It's out of their way; only no place on the mountain is safe for Frale now."
"Send him to me quickly, then. I have cast my lot with you mountain people for some time to come, and your cause shall be mine."
She paused at the door with grateful words on her lips unuttered.
"Don't stop for thanks, Miss Cassandra; they are wasted between us. You have opened your doors to me, a stranger, and that is enough. Hurry, don't grieve—and see here: I may not be able to do anything, but I'll try; and if I can't get down to-night, won't you come again in the morning and tell me all about it?"
Instantly he thought better of his request, yet who was here to criticise? He laughed as he thought how firmly the world and its conventions held him. Sweet, simple-hearted child that she was, why, indeed, should she not come? Still he called after her. "If you are too busy, send Hoyle. I may be down to see your mother, anyway."
She paused an instant in her hurried walk. "I'll be right glad to come, if I can help you any way."
He stood watching her until she passed below his view, as her long easy steps took her rapidly on, although she seemed to move slowly. Then he went back to his fire, and her words repeated themselves insistently in his mind—"I'll be right glad to come, if I can help you any way."
Aunt Sally was seated in the chimney-corner smoking, when Cassandra returned. "Where is he?" she cried.
"He couldn't set a minute, he was that restless. He 'lowed he'd go up to the rock whar you found him las' evenin'."
Without a word, Cassandra turned and fled up the steep toward the head of the fall. Every moment, she knew, was precious. Frale met her halfway down and took her hand, leading her as he had been used to do when she was his "little sister," and listened to her plans docilely enough.