"G'wan home!" he interrupted harshly. "You want that Hastings boy to bleed to death?"
She came up to him, not uttering a word, yet asking him with all the tenderness and eloquence of her eyes to leave this blood-trail where it lay and hunt no more.
He kissed her mouth, infinitely tender, smiled; then, again prim and scowling:
"G'wan home, you little scut, an' do what I told ye, or, by God, I'll cut a switch that'll learn ye good! Never a word, now! On yer way! G'wan!"
* * * * *
Twice she turned to look back. The second time, Clinch was slowly walking into the woods straight ahead of him. She waited; saw him go in; waited. After a while she continued on her way.
When she sighted the men below she called to Blommers and Dick Berry:
"Dad says you're to stop Star Peak trail by Owl Marsh."
Jimmy Hastings sat on a log, crying and looking down at his dead brother, over whose head somebody had spread a coat.
Blommers had made a tourniquet for Jimmy out of a bandanna and a peeled stick.