Annette nodded. Her big eyes were shining. She wanted to help the Wolf now. That was all.
The Wolf took both her hands in his. They were small and smooth for all their strength.
“Say, kid, you do want to help me?”
Suddenly Annette snatched her hands free and flung her arms about the Wolf’s neck. She clung to him.
“Yes, yes,” she cried. “Anythin’ for you, Wolf. Anythin’—anythin’ at all.”
The boy stooped and kissed the face so near to his. Then as the girl still clung to him he released himself from her embrace.
“We got to be quick, kid,” he said without urgency. “It ain’t Pideau worryin’. It’s the police. They’ll get along. Pideau’s played a fool game, an’ we can’t stop around here. We got to beat it farther into the hills. An’ we aren’t going to get more cattle. We’ll need to hustle for pelts in the future, till—till—— Say——?”
He turned sharply to the inner room.
Annette followed him through the open doorway.
Minutes later Pideau at work amongst his cattle saw the queer little procession. The tall youth was staggering under the burden of death. And behind him came Annette carrying the necessary tools for a burial.