"It's me." The hand was cold, and its fingers clung tightly to his, as if the girl was frightened.

Peter, restless with waiting, had come up quietly in the dark, and he heard the low, trembling whisper of Nada's voice at the window.

There was something in the note of it, and in the caution of Jolly Roger's reply, that held him stiff and attentive, his ears wide-open for approaching sound.

For several minutes he stood thus, and then the whispering voices at the window ceased and he heard his master retreating very quietly through the night.

When Jolly Roger spoke to him, back under the broken shoulder of the ridge, he did not know that Peter had stood near the window.
McKay stood looking back at the pale glow of light in the cabin.
"Something happened there tonight--something she wouldn't tell me about," he said, speaking half to Peter and half to himself.