"Oh! Oh!" she cried: "Keep them away! Keep them away!"
She kept saying this over and over, sitting on the ground and staring
out into the darkness, starting at every rustle of the wind, afraid of
everything. It was a long time before she uttered a word except
exclamations of terror, and every once in a while she broke down in
convulsive sobbings. I thought there was something familiar in her
voice; but I could not see well enough to recognize her features, though
it was plain that she was a young girl.
"The wolves are gone," I said; "I have scared them off."
"Don't let them come back," she sobbed. "Don't let them come back!"
"I've got a little camp-fire over yonder," I said; "and if we go to it,
I'll build it up bright, and that will scare them most to death. They're
cowards, the wolves--camp-fire will make 'em run. Let's go to the fire."
She made an effort to get up, but fell back to the ground in a heap. I
was just at that age when every boy is afraid of girls; and while I had
had my dreams of rescuing damsels from danger and serving them in other
heroic ways as all boys do, when the pinch came I did not know what to
do; she put up her hand, though, and I took it and helped her to her
feet; but she could not walk. Summoning up my courage I picked her up
and carried her toward the fire. She said nothing, except, of course,
that she was too heavy for me to carry; but she clung to me
convulsively. I could feel her heart beating furiously against me, and
she was twitching and quivering in every limb.
"You are the boy who took care of me back there when my sister died,"
said she as I carried her along.
"Are you Mrs. Gowdy's sister?" I asked.
"I am Virginia Royall," she said.
6
She was very wet and very cold. I set her down on the spring seat where
she could lean back, and wrapped her in a buffalo robe, building up the
fire until it warmed her.
"I'm glad it's you!" she said.
Presently I had hot coffee for her, and some warm milk, with the fish
and good bread and butter, and a few slices of crisp pork which I had
fried, and browned warmed-up potatoes. There was smear-case too, milk
gravy and sauce made of English currants. She began picking at the food,
saying that she could not eat; and I noticed that her lips were pale,
while her face was crimson as if with fever. She had had nothing to eat
for twenty-four hours except some crackers and cheese which she had
hidden in her satchel before running away; so in spite of the fact that
she was in a bad way from all she had gone through, she did eat a fair
meal of victuals.
I thought she ought to be talked to so as to take her mind from her
fright; but I could think of nothing but my way of cooking the victuals,
and how much I wished I could give her a better meal--just the same sort
of talk a woman is always laughed at for--but she did not say much to
me. I suppose her strange predicament began returning to her mind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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