"To help us?" The young girl held out a timid hand. "You—you won't side with Cochise? You won't let him take me?"
"'Course he won't," put in Carmena. "Didn't I tell you we're pards? His name is Jack Lennon, and he's a real man."
Lennon was pressing the soft little hand of the younger girl.
"So you are Sister Elsie," he said. "Carmena is right. I will not side with Cochise—if that's our hot friend down below."
The girl's rosebud lips parted in a smile of wondering delight.
"You called me sister! Then you'll be my brother—my Brother Jack!"
Lennon was astonished that any girl more than fourteen could be so naïve. Yet the effect was more than charming.
"I'll be only too happy, if Carmena has no objection."
He glanced up into the face of the older girl and surprised a look not meant for him to see. As the down-drooping lashes veiled her dark eyes a deep blush glowed under the tan of her dust-grimed, haggard face. The realization of the meaning of that blush and glance sobered Lennon.
The girl had known him a scant seven-and-twenty hours. But in that full day had been packed more intense peril and emotion than many couples share in a lifetime. He had saved her and she him. Together they had suffered agonies of thirst and exhaustion, and together they had cheated the murderous Apaches. Even now, down beneath them at the foot of this ancient cliff refuge, the leader of the renegades was futilely cursing.