Her childish appropriation of him completed Truedale's surrender. The
absolute lack of self-consciousness drove the last remnant of caution
away. They found the sunny spot--it was like a dimple in a hill that had
caught the warmth and brightness and held them always to the exclusion
of shadows. It almost seemed that night could never conquer the nook.

And while they rested there, Nella-Rose told him of the belief of the
natives that he was the refugee Lawson.

"And Marg would give you up like--er--this" (Nella-Rose puffed an
imaginary trifle away with her pretty pursed lips). "She trailed after
me all day--she lost me in a place where hiding's good--and there I left
her! She'll tell Jed Martin this evening when she gets back. Marg is
scenting Burke for Jed and his kind to catch--that's her way and Jed's!"
Stinging contempt rang in the girl's voice.

"But not your way I bet, Nella-Rose." The fun, not the danger, of the
situation struck Truedale.

"No!--I'd do it all myself! I'd either warn him and have done with it,
or I'd stand by him."

"I'm not sure that I like the misunderstanding about me," Truedale half
playfully remarked, "they may shoot me in the back before they find
out."

"Do you" (and here Nella-Rose's face fell into serious, dangerously
sweet, lines), "do you reckon I would leave you to them-all if there was
that danger? They don't aim to shoot or string Burke up; they reckon