He had not believed
the worst of Mary Josephine. He knew he had lost her and that she might
despise him, but that she would actually hate him with the desire for a
personal vengeance he had not believed. Was Duggan right? Was Mary
Josephine unfair? And should he in self-defense fight to poison his own
thoughts against her? His face set hard, and a joyless laugh fell from
his lips. He knew that he was facing the inevitable. No matter what had
happened, he must go on loving Mary Josephine.
All through that night he was awake. Half a dozen times he went to his
blanket, but it was impossible for him to sleep. At four o'clock he
built up the fire and at five roused Duggan. The old river-man sprang
up with the enthusiasm of a boy. He came back from the lake with his
beard and head dripping and his face glowing. All the mountains held no
cheerier comrade than Duggan.
They were on the trail at six o'clock and hour after hour kept steadily
up the Little Fork. The trail grew rougher, narrower, and more
difficult to follow, and at intervals Duggan halted to make sure of the
way. At one of these times he said to Keith:
"Las' night proved there ain't no danger from her, Johnny.
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