--he turned his back for a moment, when he thought I was done, and
I hit him with a club. And he's there, now, on his back--"

She did not finish. Jolly Roger thrust her out from him, arm's
length. A cloud under the moon hid his face. But his voice was
low, and terrible.

"Nada, go to the Missioner's as fast as you can," he said,
fighting to speak coolly. "Take Peter--and go. You will make it
before the storm breaks. I am going back to have a few words with
Jed Hawkins--alone. Then I will join you, and the Missioner will
marry us--"

The cloud was gone, and he saw joy and radiance in her face. Fear
had disappeared. Her eyes were luminous with the golden glow of
the night. Her red lips were parted, entreating him with the lure
of their purity and love, and for a moment he held her close in
his arms again, kissing her as he might have kissed an angel,
while her little hands stroked his face, and she laughed softly
and strangely in her happiness--the wonder of a woman's soul
rising swiftly out of the sweetness of her girlhood.

And then Jolly Roger set her firmly in the direction she was to
go.

"Hurry, little girl," he said. "Hurry--before the storm breaks!"

She went, calling Peter softly, and Jolly Roger strode down the
trail, not once looking back, and bent only upon the vengeance he
would this night wreak upon the two lowest brutes in creation.