ing to "get a rise out of the fellow." This accusation would have been unjust in this particular instance, and Ben should have realized from her frank confidence that her interest in the stranger was only natural and not sentimental enough then to arouse any jealousy—or was it?
Anyway, he was young and a lover, and he had just been brushing up against skeletons and ominous birds in that unholy cavern, so he grew more sarcastic still, not a normal vein for one of his robust and tolerant nature.
"Handsome, huh, and you feel so sorry for him, and you like him so much!"
The girl appeared delighted with this, and indulged in light-hearted singing and spasmodic bursts of merriment, all through the evening meal—only—she devoted her attention to young Jack Beam and Linda, quite ignoring Ben except to ask once or twice with an overcordial smile:
"Mr. Boltwood, will you be so good as to pass the pepper-box" or
"Mr. Boltwood, may I trouble you for the salt," etc., etc.
The accent on the words was tantalizing, and a sort of challenge in itself. And Ben looked bewildered, not knowing how to trump such a feminine lead.
The meal over, they busied themselves with clearing up the dishes, and making preparations for the night.
While the rest were sleeping, breathing lightly or heavily as the case might be, Sally raised the flap of her tent and stole out into the thick grass.
The moon, still the one solitary wanderer, was an hour
