Judy hurried on in silence, but he kept by her side. "You are beautiful," he said again, and laid his hand on her arm.
Then Judy whirled around on him. "Don't speak to me that way again," she said, imperiously. "I may be alone and helpless, and I know now that I was very foolish to come. But my grandfather is a Judge. If anything happens to me, he will call you to account. Go back to the camp. Go back and let me alone."
The man stopped short and gazed at her.
"You are brave," he said, in a more respectful tone.
"None of my family have ever been cowards," said Judy, who was herself again. "I am not afraid of you."
His bold eyes dropped before the fearlessness in hers.
"Good-bye," he said, humbly, and when he reached the edge of the camp he turned and looked after her, and there was a shadow on his swarthy face.
The girl on the pile of rugs called him.
"I got it," she said.
"Give it to me," he ordered, roughly. But she held the necklace away from him with a teasing laugh. "It is mine, it is mine," she cried, then shrieked, as he wrenched it out of her hand, twisting her wrist cruelly.