apologetically. "I was dying for something to read, and I figgered
there'd be something on the Mail--newspapers, you know. So I
stopped it, and tied up the driver, and found these. And I swear I
didn't take anything else--that time. There's twenty of them, and
they weigh nine pounds, and in the last two years I've toted them
five thousand miles. I wouldn't trade them for my weight in gold,
and I'm pretty heavy. I named you after one of them--Peter. I
pretty near called you Christopher Columbus. And some day we've
got to take these books to the man they were going to, Peter. I've
promised myself that. It seems sort of like stealing the soul out
of someone. I just borrowed them, that's all. And I've kept the
address of the owner, away up on the edge of the Barrens. Some day
we're going to make a special trip to take the books home."

Peter, all at once, had become interested in something else, and
following the direction of his pointed nose Jolly Roger saw Nada
standing quietly on the opposite side of the stream, looking at
them. In a moment Peter knew her, and he was trembling in every
muscle when Jolly Roger caught him up under his arm, and with a
happy laugh plunged through the creek with him. For a good five
minutes after that Jolly Roger stood aside watching Peter and
Nada, and there was a glisten of dampness in his eyes when he saw
the wet on Nada's cheeks, and the whimpering joy of Peter as he
caressed her face and hands. Three weeks had been a long time to
Peter, but he could see no difference in the little mistress he
worshipped. There were still the radiant curls to hide his nose
in, the gentle hands, the sweet voice, the warm thrill of her body
as she hugged him in her arms. He did not know that she had new
shoes and a new dress, and that some of the color had gone from
her red lips, and that her cheeks were paler, and that she could