Where was that black and flaming cabin? Where was the girl‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe soul that had called him? She must have been real; she had to live and dance and sing; he must again look into the mystery of her great eyes. And he sat up in sudden determination, and, lo! gazed straight into the very eyes of his dreaming.
She sat not four feet from him, leaning against the great tree, her eyes now languorously abstracted, now alert and quizzical with mischief.
She seemed but half-clothed, and her warm, dark flesh peeped furtively through the rent gown; her thick, crisp hair was frowsy and rumpled, and the long curves of her bare young arms gleamed in the morning sunshine, glowing with vigor and life.
A little mocking smile came and sat upon her lips.
“What you run for?” she asked, with dancing mischief in her eyes.
‚ÄúBecause‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù he hesitated, and his cheeks grew hot.
“I knows,” she said, with impish glee, laughing low music.
“Why?” he challenged, sturdily.
“You was afeared.”
He bridled.
“Well, I reckon you’d be afeared if you was caught out in the black dark all alone.”
“Pooh!” she scoffed and hugged her knees. “Pooh! I’ve stayed out all alone heaps o’ nights.”
He looked at her with a curious awe.