It was a frightened face, he thought, and very pretty.

At some interval between the time when he first saw her and the present, she had found time to rearrange her hair and make it smooth.

Color was pulsing in her cheeks.
"Stranger," she said softly, "what are you running away from ?" The question slowly penetrated the mind of Bull; he was still bewildered by the change in her--something electric, to be felt rather than noted with the eye.
"They ain't any reason for hurrying on," she urged.

"I--I can hide you, easy.

Nobody could find where I'll put you, and there you can rest up.