"Jack!" said Mescal. "Jack!" Memory had revived some forgotten thing.
The dark olive of her skin crimsoned; her eyes dilated and shadowed with
a rare change of emotion.
"Jack," she repeated.
"Well?" he replied, in surprise.
"To look at you!--I never dreamed--I'd forgotten--"
"What's the matter with me?" demanded Jack.
Wonderingly, her mind on the past, she replied: "You were dying when we
found you at White Sage."
He drew himself up with a sharp catch in his breath, and stared at her as
if he saw a ghost.
"Oh--Jack! You're going to get well!"
Her lips curved in a smile.
For an instant Jack Hare spent his soul in searching her face for truth.
While waiting for death he had utterly forgotten it; he remembered now,
when life gleamed in the girl's dark eyes. Passionate joy flooded his
heart.
"Mescal--Mescal!" he cried, brokenly. The eyes were true that shed this
sudden light on him; glad and sweet were the lips that bade him hope and
live again. Blindly, instinctively he kissed them--a kiss unutterably
grateful; then he fled into the forest, running without aim.
That flight ended in sheer exhaustion on the far rim of the plateau.
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