Solitude may be
good for some, but for those in distress--"
"Exactly. But you are not going to have any more solitude. You see
we have invaded your camp, and when my sister Cora makes a discovery
she always insists upon developing it. I never did see the beat of
Cora for finding things out," and the pride in Jack's voice matched
the toss of his handsome head.
"And my little girl will have a friend," mused the elder man.
"Well, in moments when I could think, that torturing thought of my
dragging her down with me was too much. It drove me back always to
the old, old despair." The look of terror, that Jack noticed before
came back into the haggard face. It was as if he feared to hope.
Laurel was at the door. Her face was a picture of happiness as she
stood there gazing at her father. Her skin was as dark as the
leaves that outlined the entrance to the hut; her eyes lighted up
the rude archway: and her lithe figure completed the bronze
statuette.
Jack's eyes fell upon her in unstinted admiration. Generations of
culture are not easily undone even by the wild life of a forest.
"You are better every minute, father," she said simply, "I think the
cure you need comes from pleasant company."
"None could be more pleasant than your own, my dear," he answered,
"but now I want to go and see my birds. And I must feed that
cripple rabbit. He was shot," to Jack, "but the leg is mending
nicely.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173