things which he had
never revealed to a human soul.
In the dusk of one evening, as he sat wet with the fording of the creek,
he said to Peter,
"We ought to go, Peter. We ought to pack up--and go tonight.
Because--sometimes I'm afraid of myself, Pied-Bot. I'd kill for her. I'd
die for her. I'd give up the whole world, and live in a prison cell--if
I could have her with me. And that's dangerous, Peter, because we can't
have her. It's impossible, boy. She doesn't guess why I'm here. She
doesn't know I've been outlawin' it for years, and that I'm hiding here
because the Police would never think of looking for Jolly Roger McKay
this close to civilization. If I told her, she would think I was
worse than Jed Hawkins, and she wouldn't believe me if I told her I've
outlawed with my wits instead of a gun, and that I've never criminally
hurt a person in my life. No, she wouldn't believe that, Peter. And
she--she cares for me, Pied-Bot. That's the hell of it! And she's got
faith in me, and would go with me to the Missioner's tomorrow. I know
it. I can see it, feel it, and I--"
His fingers tightened in the loose hide of Peter's neck.
"Peter," he whispered in the thickening darkness. "I believe there's a
God, but He's a different sort of God than most people believe in. He
lives in the trees out there, in the flowers, in the birds, the sky, in
everything--and I hope that God will strike me dead if I do what isn't
right with her, Peter! I do. I hope he strikes me dead!"
And that night Peter knew that Jolly Roger tossed about restlessly in
his bunk, and slept but little.
But the next morning he was singing, and the warm sun flooding over
the wilderness was not more cheerful than his voice as he cooked their
breakfast. That, to Peter, was the most puzzling thing about this man.
With gloom and oppression fastened upon him he would rise up suddenly,
and start whistling or singing, and once he said to Peter,
"I take my cue from the sun, Peter Clubfoot. It's always shining, no
matter if the clouds are so thick underneath that we can't see it. A
laugh never hurts a man, unless he's got a frozen lung."
Jolly Roger did not cross the ford that day.
CHAPTER V
It was in the third week after his hurt that Peter saw Nada. By that
time he could easily follow Jolly Roger as far as the fording-place, and
there he would wait, sometimes hours at a stretch, while his comrade and
master went over to Cragg's Ridge. But frequent
|