“Nell, it'd take a thousand years to make a savage of you,” she said. “But a week will do for me.”
“Bo, you were one before you left Saint Joe,” replied Helen. “Don't you remember that school-teacher Barnes who said you were a wildcat and an Indian mixed? He spanked you with a ruler.”
“Never! He missed me,” retorted Bo, with red in her cheeks. “Nell, I wish you'd not tell things about me when I was a kid.”
“That was only two years ago,” expostulated Helen, in mild surprise.
“Suppose it was. I was a kid all right. I'll bet you—” Bo broke up abruptly, and, tossing her head, she gave Tom a pat and then ran away around the corner of cliff wall.
Helen followed leisurely.
“Say, Nell,” said Bo, when Helen arrived at their little green ledge-pole hut, “do you know that hunter fellow will upset some of your theories?”
“Maybe. I'll admit he amazes me—and affronts me, too, I'm afraid,” replied Helen. “What surprises me is that in spite of his evident lack of schooling he's not raw or crude. He's elemental.”
“Sister dear, wake up. The man's wonderful. You can learn more from him than you ever learned in your life. So can I. I always hated books, anyway.”
When, a little later, Dale approached carrying some bridles, the hound Pedro trotted at his heels.