Peter was watching.

He saw the half frightened look in her face, then the slow widening of her dark eyes, and the quick intake of her breath.

And in that moment Jolly Roger cried out a name.
"Yellow Bird!" He went to her slowly, wondering if it could be possible the years had touched Yellow Bird so lightly; and Yellow Bird reached out her hands to him, her face flaming up with sudden happiness, and Peter wondered what it was all about as he cautiously eyed the half dozen brown-faced little Indian children who had now gathered quietly about them.

In another moment there was an interruption.

A girl came through the fringe of willows behind them.