“I’m glad you say that, Slingerland,” replied Neale.  “What to do about her had worried me.  I’ll decide right now.  I’ll leave her with you, and I hope to Heaven I’m doing best by her.”

“Wal, she ain’t strong enough to travel fur.  We didn’t think of thet.”

“That settles it, then,” said Neale, in relief.  “Time enough to decide when she is well again....  Tell me about her.”

“Son, thar’s nuthin’ to tell.  She’s done jest the same, except fer thet takin’ to watchin’ fer you.  Reckon thet means a good deal.”

“What?”

“Wal, I don’t figger girls as well as I do other critters,” answered Slingerland, reflectively.  “But I’d say Allie shows interest in you.”

“Slingerland!  You don’t mean she—­she cares for me?” demanded Neale.

“I don’t know.  Mebbe not.  Mebbe she’s beyond carin’.  But I believe you an’ thet red memory of bloody death air all she ever thinks of.  An’ mostly of it.”

“Then it’ll be a fight between me and that memory?”

“So I take it, son.  But recollect I ain’t no mind-doctor.  I jest feel you could make her fergit thet hell if you tried hard enough.”

“I’ll try—­hard as I can,” replied Neale, resolutely, yet with a certain softness.  “I’m sorry for her.  I saved her.  Why shouldn’t I do everything possible?”

“Wal, she’s alone.”

“No, Allie has friends—­you and King and me.  That’s three.”

“Son, I reckon you don’t figger me.  Listen.  You’re a fine, strappin’ young feller an’ good-lookin’.  More ’n thet, you’ve got some—­some quality like an Injun’s—­thet you can feel but can’t tell about.  You needn’t be insulted, fer I know Injuns thet beat white men holler fer all thet’s noble.  Anyway, you attract.  An’ now if you keep on with all thet—­thet—­wal, usin’ yourself to make Allie fergit the bloody murder of all she loved, to make her mind clear again—­why, sooner or later she’s a-goin’ to breathe an’ live through you.  Jest as a flower lives offen the sun.  Thet’s all, I reckon.”

Neale’s bronze cheek had paled a little.  “Well, if that’s all, that’s easy,” he replied, with a cool, bright smile which showed the latent spirit in him.  “If it’s only that—­why she can have me....  Slingerland, I’ve no ties now.  The last one was broken when my mother died—­not long ago.  I’m alone, too....  I’d do as much for any innocent girl—­but for this poor child Allie—­whose life I saved—­ I’d do anything.”

Slingerland shoved out a horny hand and made a giant grip express what evidently just then he could not express in speech.

Upon returning to the cabin they found Allie had left her room.  From appearances Neale concluded that she had made little use of the things he had brought her.  He was conscious of something akin to impatience.  He was not sure what he did feel.  The situation had subtly changed and grown, all in that brief talk with Slingerland.  Neale slowly walked out toward the brook, where he expected to find her.  It struck him suddenly that if she had watched for him all week and had run when he came, then she must have wanted to see him, but was afraid or shy or perverse.  How like any girl!  Possibly in the week past she had unconsciously grown a little away from her grief.