"Why, Bill—er Kate, I.... 'Pon my word, I don't know what to say. Oh, Christopher! you know this is comical; I came up here intending to kiss my little friend Billjim, and I find you grown into a beautiful woman."
"Kiss me, Jack?" broke in Billjim; "kiss me? Why, I'm going to hug you!" And she did, and Jack blushed to the roots of his curly golden hair, and was confused all the evening over it.
The four years' schooling had not changed Billjim one iota as far as character went. She was the identical Billjim grown big and grown pretty, that was all.
But something was to happen which was to turn the wild tom-boy into a serious woman, and it happened shortly after her return home.
It was mail night up at the Nest, and Jack L'Estrange was absent from the crowd that invariably spent an hour or two getting their mail and discussing items of grave interest. Being mail night, Jack's absence was naturally noticed, and every one made some remark about it.
However, old Dick said: "Oh, Jack's struck some good thing, I suppose, and got back to camp too late to come up. He'll come in the morning likely."
This seemed to satisfy every one save Billjim. She turned to Frenchy, and said:
"Do you know whereabouts Jack was working lately?"
"Yes," answered Frenchy. "He was working at the two mile, day before yesterday, so I suppose he's there yet."
"Yes," said Billjim, "I suppose he will be." But Billjim wasn't satisfied. When every one was asleep she was out, and knowing the scrub thoroughly, was over to Jack's camp in a quarter of an hour. Not finding Jack there, she made for the two mile with all speed, for something told her she knew not what. An undefinable feeling that something was wrong came across her. She saw Jack lying crushed and bleeding and no one there to help him! Do what she would, dry, choking sobs burst from her tight-closed lips as she scrambled along over boulders and through the thick scrub. Brambles, wait-a-bit vines, and berry bushes scratched and stung her, and switched across her face, leaving bleeding and livid marks on her tender skin. But she pushed on and on in the fitful moonlight through the dense undergrowth, making a straight line for the two mile.