"Perhaps."

"Well--" She stopped. "Go home alone, then. I'll be no worse off than
when you found me the first time. Pete will come out and hunt for
me. He has a far sweeter temper than you, Hugh, and doesn't think
only of himself."

He swung away at that, resting his hand against a big rock to clear
a hole; then, seeing her about to step down into it, he pivoted back,
caught her up bodily in his arms, and, laughing, ran with her down
the hill, bounding over the rocks, leaping over the crevices, while
she clung to him in fright.

"You silly child!" he cried. "This is the way I'll take you home.
Now I've got you, and I'll punish you well, too." She clung to him
and begged him to stop. She was frightened by their rash, plunging
progress, by his speech. She struggled. "Let me down. I won't be
carried like this against my will. Hugh, let me down!"

"All right!" He fairly flung her from him on a grassy spot. He was
about to leave her when a rushing rattle sounded above them. The
boulder he had twice used to turn his own weight upon was charging
down the hillside! Just in time he caught Sylvie, threw her to one
side and fell prone, helpless, in the path of the slide. He cried
out, flinging up his arm, and, as though his cry had been of magic,
the boulder faltered and stopped. A root half buried just above his
body had made a hollow and a ledge; it had rocked the rolling fragment
back up on its haunches, so to speak, and balanced it to a stop.

"Hugh! Hugh!" sobbed Sylvie. "What was it? Are you hurt?"