I took her hand again and tried to assuage her fears as we went on under the big forest trees through the shadowy, dimly luminous atmosphere. I told her that Buck had spoken in the heat of anger, and that he did not really mean what he said, and that his passion had gotten away with his discretion, and had made him act very foolishly. I ended by laughing at the threats, and treating them in the nature of a joke, but my companion would not have it so. "Yo' don't know 'im! Yo' don't know 'im!" she insisted, drawing the back of her free hand across her eyes. "He _did_ mean it, 'n' he _will_ do it--I know he will!" "Don't you think I can take care of myself?" I asked. "I don't know; maybe--but Buck's so strong!" "I'm strong, too, Dryad." She did not answer, and soon we came to the glade. Here Lessie stopped and faced me. "Yo' _mustn't_ come no fu'ther," she said, so emphatically that I almost blinked. "'N'--'n'--yo' mustn't come to the P'int no more 'n' I won't come to Baldy no more 'n'--" "Why, Lessie!" I dropped her hand, and put all the reproach I could summons into the words. "Yo' know--w'y--" "And give up all the things I am going to teach you just because--" It was too much. She turned with a hurt, despairing cry which somehow cut me savagely, and ran swiftly from me across the open ground. I saw the misty fluttering of garments in the gloom, caught the dull glow from her flying hair, then knew that I was alone. I have just written to 'Crombie. I did not tell him of any of the people I have met. I wrote a chatty letter describing my daily life, my improved condition, and telling of my inability, so far, to locate the life-plant. But on this point I had hopes. I'm sure he will scratch his head when he reads my postscript, and wonder if I have developed brain trouble. Here is my postscript: "Kindly forward me by mail to Hebron, at once, a primer and a copybook." CHAPTER ELEVEN IN WHICH OTHER CHARACTERS COME INTO OUR STORY I went to Hebron to-day to mail my letter, and to lay in a supply of garden seed. It was still early morning when I reached Lizard Point, and came upon the road leading to my destination. The sun had not yet topped the high knob range; the air was cool, balmy, moist with dew, and clear. I stood for a moment after I had crossed the bridge, and looked intently up to where Lessie lived. Had I seen her I would have sent her a hail, and told her where I was going. Light blue wood smoke was coming from the kitchen chimney, and spiraling straight up to a great height before it dissipated--a sure sign of fair weather, I have been informed. Soon I descried Granf'er's stooped form plodding across the back yard. He still wore his coffee-sack apron, and was carrying a dishpan of water. This he emptied into a chicken trough, and trudged back to the house. But Lessie did not appear, so I faced about and went on.