“What’s the matter?” he demanded. “Think I’m going to bite you?”
She shrank farther away, and did not answer. He stared at her, his eyes hard and bright. Suddenly he burst into a harsh laugh, and strode away towards the cliff, savagely kicking aside the birds that came in his path.
When, an hour later, the girl crept back along the cleft to the baobab, she saw him hard at work building a little hut, several yards down towards the barricade. The moment she perceived what he was about her bearing became less guarded, and she took up her own work with a spirit and energy which she had not shown since the adventure with the puff adder.
At her call to the noon meal, Blake took his time to respond, and when he at last came to join her, he was morose and taciturn. She met him with a smile, and exerted all her womanly tact to conciliate him.
“You must help me eat the egg,” she said. “I’ve boiled it hard.”
“Rather eat beef,” he mumbled.
“But just to please me–when I’ve cooked it your way!”
He uttered an inarticulate sound which she chose to interpret as assent. The egg was already shelled. She cut it exactly in half, and served one of the pieces to him with a bit of warm fat and a pinch of salt. As he took the dish, he raised his sullen eyes to her face. She met his gaze with a look of smiling insistence.
“Come now,” she said; “please don’t refuse. I’m sorry I was so rude.”
“Well, if you feel that way about it!–not that I care for fancy dishes,” he responded gruffly.