"
He refilled her tin cup, and devoted himself to his food. Before long
they had satisfied their hunger. Bill laid a few dry sticks on the
fire. The flames laid hold of them and shot up in bright, wavering
tongues. It seemed to Hazel that she had stepped utterly out of her
world. Cariboo Meadows, the schoolhouse, and her classes seemed
remote. She found herself wishing she were a man, so that she could
fare into the wilds with horses and a gun in this capable man fashion,
where routine went by the board and the unexpected hovered always close
at hand. She looked up suddenly, to find him regarding her with a
whimsical smile.
"In a few minutes," said he, "I'll pack up and try to deliver you as
per contract. Meantime, I'm going to smoke."
He did not ask her permission, but filled his pipe and lighted it with
a coal. And for the succeeding fifteen minutes Roaring Bill Wagstaff
sat staring into the dancing blaze. Once or twice he glanced at her,
and when he did the same whimsical smile would flit across his face.
Hazel watched him uneasily after a time. He seemed to have forgotten
her. His pipe died, and he sat holding it in his hand. She was
uneasy, but not afraid.
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