"Listen to me, Yasma!" I appealed, in rising rage. "Let's try to see with clear eyes. You said something about fairness--have you ever thought how fair you are to me? I can't go back to my own land because I wouldn't leave you; but here in your land you yourself leave me for months at a time. And I don't even know why you go or where. Would you think it fair if I were gone half the time and didn't tell you why?" Into her flushed face had come anger that rivalled my own. Her proud eyes flashed defiance as she cried, "No, I wouldn't think it fair! And if you are tired of staying here, you can go--yes, you can just go!" "Very well then, I will go!" I decided, on a mad impulse. "If you don't want me, I'll go at once! I'll return to my own people! The road is open--I'll not trouble you to stay here this winter!" As though in response to a well formed plan rather than to an irrational frenzy, I began to fumble about the room for bits of clothing, for scraps of food, for my notebook and empty revolver; and made haste to bind my belongings together as if for a long journey. For several minutes Yasma watched me in silence. Then her reaction was just what it had been when, in a similar fury, I had run from her in the woods long before. While I persisted with my preparations and the suspense became prolonged, I was startled by a half-stifled sob from my rear. And, the next instant, a passionate form thrust itself upon me tensely, almost savagely, tearing the bundle from my grasp and weaving its arms about me in a tearful outburst. "No, no, no, you must not!" she cried, in tones of pleading and despair. "You must not go away! Stay here, and I'll do anything you want!" "Then you'll remain all winter?" I stipulated, though by this time I was filled with such remorse and pity that I would gladly have abandoned the dispute. "Yes, I'll remain all winter--if I can," she moaned. "But I do not know, I do not know--if Yulada will let me." It struck me that in her manner there was the sadness of one who stands face to face with misfortune; and in her words I could catch a forewarning of events I preferred not to anticipate. CHAPTER XXIII _THE LAST FLIGHT_