“I thought I could hide here for a day or two,” she said, “till they quit huntin’. Then I could get away. Would you hide me, somehow?—would you?”
He was silent, trying to think, with a head not too clear, how best to do it; and she misunderstood.
“Don’t make me go back—don’t tell Dad and Bunchy! If you can’t hide me, I’ll go now,” she said.
“What you talkin’?” he said, roughly. “I’m thinkin’. Thinkin’ up how. Thinkin’ up how.” He put his hands to his temples. “My head don’t think,” he said thickly.
“Here in the hut,” she said, eagerly and clearly. “They’ll never think of comin’ up here. Why, I don’t hardly know you.”
“Won’t they though?” said the Inger, suddenly, and dimly remembered Bunchy, and the blow for the sake of the girl. Last, there came dancing to him something about a check for the debt to Bunchy which she had not paid.
“As it happens,” said the Inger, “this is jus’ the first place where they will come lookin’ for you. Jus’ the first place....”
“Why?” she cried.