"How did it all happen?"
"I don't exactly know. It all came of a sudden. I had no share in it--I
didn't go for to do it."
"Whether you did or not, you seem to have made a good job of it."
Nash examined the wounded man carefully, and his skill and strength in
handling Norcross pleased Berrie, though she was jealous of the warm
friendship which seemed to exist between the men.
She had always liked Nash, but she resented him now, especially as he
insisted on taking charge of the case; but she gave way finally, and went
back to her pots and pans with pensive countenance.
A little later, when Nash came out to make report, she was not very
gracious in her manner. "He's pretty badly hurt," he said. "There's an
ugly gash in his scalp, and the shock has produced a good deal of pain
and confusion in his head; but he's going to be all right in a day or
two. For a man seeking rest and recuperation he certainly has had a tough
run of weather."
Though a serious-minded, honorable forester, determined to keep sternly
in mind that he was in the presence of the daughter of his chief, and
that she was engaged to marry another, Nash was, after all, a man, and
the witchery of the hour, the charm of the girl's graceful figure,
asserted their power over him. His eyes grew tender, and his voice
eloquent in spite of himself. His words he could guard, but it was hard
to keep from his speech the song of the lover. The thought that he was to
camp in her company, to help her about the fire, to see her from moment
to moment, with full liberty to speak to her, to meet her glance, pleased
him. It was the most romantic and moving episode in his life, and though
of a rather dry and analytic temperament he had a sense of poesy.
The night, black, oppressive, and silent, brought a closer bond of mutual
help and understanding between them. He built a fire of dry branches
close to the tent door, and there sat, side by side with the girl, in the
glow of embers, so close to the injured youth that they could talk
together, and as he spoke freely, yet modestly, of his experiences Berrie
found him more deeply interesting than she had hitherto believed him to
be. True, he saw things less poetically than Wayland, but he was finely
observant, and a man of studious and refined habits.
She grew friendlier, and asked him about his work, and especially about
his ambitions and plans for the future. They discussed the forest and its
enemies, and he wondered at her freedom in speaking of the Mill and
saloon. He said: "Of course you know that Alec Belden is a partner in
that business, and I'm told--of course I don't know this--that Clifford
Belden is also interested."
She offered no defense of young Belden, and this unconcern puzzled him.
He had expected indignant protest, but she merely replied: "I don't care
who owns it. It should be rooted out. I hate that kind of thing. It's
just another way of robbing those poor tie-jacks."
"Clifford should get out of it. Can't you persuade him to do so?"
"I don't think I can."
"His relationship to you--"
"He is not related to me."