They ate breakfast at the shelf-table nailed in place underneath the western window.They made a picnic of it, and her spirits skipped upon the hilltops.For the first time she ate from tin plates, drank from a tin cup, and used a tin spoon the worse for rust.What mattered it to her that the teapot was grimy and the fryingpan black with soot! It was all part of the wonderful new vista that had suddenly opened before her gaze.She had awakened into life and already she was dimly realizing that many and varied experiences lay waiting for her in that untrodden path beyond her cloistered world.
A reconnaissance in the shed behind the house showed him no plethora of firewood.But here was ax, shovel, and saw, and he asked no more.First he shoveled out a path along the eaves of the house where she might walk in sentry fashion to take the deep breaths of clear sharp air he insisted upon.He made it wide enough so that her skirt would not sweep against the snow-bank, and trod down the trench till the footing was hard and solid.Then with ax and saw he climbed the hillside back of the house and set himself to get as much fuel as he could.The sky was still heavy with unshed snow, and he knew that with the coming of night the storm would be renewed.
Came noon, mid-afternoon, the early dusk of a mountain winter, and found him still hewing and sawing, still piling load after load in the shed.Now and again she came out and watched him, laughing at the figure he made as he would come plunging through the snow with his armful of fuel.
She did not know, as he did, the vital necessity of filling the lean-to before winter fell upon them in earnest and buried them deep with his frozen blanket, and she was a little piqued that he should spend the whole day away from her in such unsocial fashion.
"Let me help," she begged so often that he trod down a path, made boots for her out of torn gunny-sacks which he tied round her legs, and let her drag wood to the house on a pine branch which served for a sled.She wore her gauntlets to protect her tender hands, and thereafter was happy until, detecting signs of fatigue, he made her go into the house and rest.
As soon as she dared she was back again, making fun of him and the earnestness with which he worked.
"Robinson Crusoe" was one name she fastened upon him, and she was not satisfied till she had made him call her "Friday."Twilight fell austere and sudden upon them with an immediate fall of temperature that found a thermometer in her blue face.
He recommended the house, but she was of a contrary mood."I don't want to," she announced debonairly.
In a stiff military attitude he gave raucous mandate from his throat."Commanding officer's orders, lieutenant.""I think I'm going to mutiny," she informed him, with chin saucily inair.
This would not do at all.The chill wind sweeping down the canon wassearching her insufficient clothing already.He picked her up in his arms and ran with her toward the house, setting her down in the trench outside the door.She caught her startled breath and looked at him in shy, dubious amazement.
"Really you " she was beginning when he cut her short.
"Commanding officer's orders, lieutenant," came briskly from lips that showed just a hint of a smile.
At once she clicked her heels together, saluted, and wheeled into the cabin.
From the grimy window she watched his broad-shouldered vigor, waving her hand whenever his face was turned her way.He worked like a Titan, reveling in the joy of physical labor, but it was long past dark before he finished and came striding to the hut.
They made a delightful evening of it, living in the land of Never Was.For one source of her charm lay in the gay, childlike whimsicality o her imagination.She believed in fairies and heroes with all her heart, whichwith her was an organ not located in her brain.The delicious gurgle of gaiety in her laugh was a new find to him in feminine attractions.
There had been many who thought the career of this pirate of industry beggared fiction, though, few had found his flinty personality a radiaton of romance.But this convent-nurtured child had made a discovery in men, one out of the rut of the tailor-made, convention-bound society youths to whom her experience for the most part had been limited.She delighted in his masterful strength, in the confidence of his careless dominance.She liked to see that look of power in his gray-blue eyes softened to the droll, half-tender, expression with which he played the game of make-believe.There were no to-morrows; to-day marked the limit of time for them.By tacit consent they lived only in the present, shutting out deliberately from their knowledge of each other, that past which was not common to both.Even their names were unknown to each other, and both of them were glad that it was so.
The long winter evening had fallen early, and they dined by candle- light, considering merrily how much they might with safety eat and yet leave enough for the to-morrows that lay before them.Afterward they sat before the fire, in the shadow and shine of the flickering logs, happy and content in each other's presence.She dreamed, and he, watching her, dreamed, too.The wild, sweet wonder of life surged through them, touching their squalid surroundings to the high mystery of things unreal.
The strangeness of it was that he was a man of large and not very creditable experience of women, yet her deep, limpid eyes, her sweet voice, the immature piquancy of her movements that was the expression of her, had stirred his imagination more potently than if he had been the veriest schoolboy nursing a downy lip.He could not keep his eyes from this slender, exquisite girl, so dainty and graceful in her mobile piquancy.Fire and passion were in his heart and soul, restraint and repression in his speech and manner.For the fire and passion in him were pure and clean as the winds that sweep the hills.
But for the girl--she was so little mistress of her heart that she had no prescience of the meaning of this sweet content that filled her.And the voices that should have warned her were silent, busy behind the purplehills with lies and love and laughter and tears.
