Well
past mid-afternoon they came opposite a small, rocky island,
and as Byrne's eyes fell upon it an exclamation of gratification
burst from his lips.
"Jest de place!" he cried. "We orter be able to hide dere
forever."
"But how are we to get there?" asked the girl, looking
fearfully at the turbulent river.
"It ain't deep," Byrne assured her. "Come ahead; I'll carry
yeh acrost," and without waiting for a reply he gathered her
in his arms and started down the bank.
What with the thoughts that had occupied his mind off and
on during the afternoon the sudden and close contact of the
girl's warm young body close to his took Billy Byrne's breath
away, and sent the hot blood coursing through his veins. It
was with the utmost difficulty that he restrained a mad desire
to crush her to him and cover her face with kisses.
And then the fatal thought came to him--why should he
restrain himself? What was this girl to him? Had he not
always hated her and her kind? Did she not look with
loathing and contempt upon him? And to whom did her life
belong anyway but to him--had he not saved it twice? What
difference would it make? They'd never come out of this
savage world alive, and if he didn't take her some monkey-faced
Chink would get her.
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