"
"And his people go to it still-was that where you were going when I broke
in on you?"
"Yes, I was going there. I am a heathen, also, you know."
"Well, I'll be a heathen, too, if you'll show me how; if you think I'd
pass for one. I've done a lot of heathen things in my time."
She gave him her hand to say good-bye. "Mayn't I go with you?" he asked.
"'I must finish my journey alone,'" she answered slowly, repeating a line
from the first English book she had ever read.
"That's English enough," he responded with a laugh. "Well, if I mustn't
go with you I mustn't, but my respects to Robinson Crusoe." He slung the
gun into the hollow of his arm. "I'd like much to go with you," he urged.
"Not to-day," she answered firmly.
Again the voice came through the woods, a little louder now.
"It sounds like a call," he remarked.
"It is a call," she answered--"the call of the heathen."
An instant after she had gone on, with a look half-smiling,
half-forbidding, thrown over her shoulder at him.
"I've a notion to follow her," he said eagerly, and he took a step in her
direction.
Suddenly she turned and came back to him. "Your plans are in
danger--don't forget Felix Marchand," she said, and then turned from him
again.
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