"If I step out, that's yours. But I ain't a-going to step out. Put it with the hootch. You know how to move that keystone?"
"Yes, dad."
"And watch out that no game protector and none of that damn millionaire's wardens see you in the woods. No, nor none o' these here fancy State Troopers. You gotta watch out this time, Eve. It means everything to us — to you, girlie — and to me. Go tip-toe. Lay low, coming and going. Take a rifle."
Eve ran to her bed-room and returned with her Winchester and belt.
"You shoot to kill," said Clinch grimly, "if anyone wants to stop you. But lay low and you won't need to shoot nobody, girlie. G'wan out the back way; Hal's in the ice house."
* * * * *
II
Slim and straight as a young boy in her grey shirt and breeches, Eve continued on lightly through the woods, her rifle over her shoulder, her eyes of gentian-blue always alert.
The morning turned warm; she pulled off her soft felt hat, shook out her clipped curls, stripped open the shirt at where her snowy throat where sweat glimmered like melted frost.
The forest was lovely in the morning sunlight — lovely and still — save for the blue-jays — for the summer birds had gone and only birds destined to a long Northern winter remained.