Now that the great fight was over, and he knew that the big
stranger was hurrying back to the Great Mountain, all Lightfoot's
anger melted away. In its place was a great longing to find Miss
Daintyfoot. His great eyes became once more soft and
beautiful. In them was a look of wistfulness. Lightfoot walked
down to the edge of the water and drank, for he was very, very
thirsty. Then he turned, intending to take up once more his
search for beautiful Miss Daintyfoot.

When he turned he faced the thicket in which Miss Daintyfoot was
hiding. His keen eyes caught a little movement of the branches. A
beautiful head was slowly thrust out, and Lightfoot gazed again
into a pair of soft eyes which he was sure were the most
beautiful eyes in all the Great World. He wondered if she would
disappear and run away as she had the last time he saw her.

He took a step or two forward. The beautiful head was
withdrawn. Lightfoot's heart sank. Then he bounded forward into
that thicket. He more than half expected to find no one there,
but when he entered that thicket he received the most wonderful
surprise in all his life. There stood Miss Daintyfoot, timid,
bashful, but with a look in her eyes which Lightfoot could not
mistake. In that instant Light-foot understood the meaning of
that longing which had kept him hunting for her and of the rage
which had filled him when he had discovered the presence of the
big stranger from the Great Mountain. It was love. Lightfoot knew
that he loved Miss Daintyfoot and, looking into her soft, gentle
eyes, he knew that Miss Daintyfoot loved him.