After all there might be fighting of the good old-fashioned kind.

He looked back in the direction of the tent.
The girl had reappeared, and was looking at him.

She waved a hand, and he ran down to meet her.

She had been crying.

The dampness of tears still clung to her lashes; but the smile on her lips was sweet and welcoming, and now, so frankly that his face burned with pleasure, she held out a hand to him.
"I was rude to run away from you in that way," she apologized.