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McKay whispered: "I'll try to shoot straight because you're hungry, Yellow-hair"; and all the while his pistol-arm slanted higher and higner. For a second, it remained motionless; then a red streak split the darkness and the pistol-shot crashed in her ears.
"I don't know how it happened, Yellow-hair," he was explaining as he adjusted and buckled her pack for her, "and whether I slid north or east I never exactly knew. But if there's a path into Les Errues except through the Hun wire, it must lie somewhere below Thusis.
"Yellow-hair?" "Yes, Kay." "You are not scared, are you?" "Yes; but I'm all right." He said with quiet bitterness: "It's too late to say what a fool I am. Their camouflage took me in; that's all " He fired again; a rattling volley came storming among the rocks. "We're all right here," he said tersely. But in his heart he was terrified, for he had only the cartridges in his clips.
After a little while she reached out and let her fingers touch McKay's hand where it rested on the moss: "Kay?" "Yes, Yellow-hair." "It isn't possible, of course.... But are there any eagles in Europe that have white heads and tails?" "No." "I know.... I wish you'd look up at that eagle. He is not very high." McKay lifted his head.
"By cable, little comrade," he said, with a shaky gaiety that betrayed the tension of his nerves. "So pack up and route-step once more!" He turned and looked at her and his face twitched: "You wonderful girl," he said, "you beautiful, wonderful girl! We'll live to fly our pigeons yet, Yellow-hair, under the very snout of the whole Hun empire!"
"A gun?" he inquired coolly. "Yes, I have two strapped up under both arms. But you must come too, Yellow-hair." "You don't think it best to leave me alone even in your own house?" "No, I don't think it best." "I wanted to go with you anyway," she said, picking up a soft hat and pulling it over her golden head. On the way across Isla bridge and out along the sheep-path they chatted unconcernedly.
The girl pressed her waist with his arm, straightened her shoulders and stood erect; and with a quick gesture cleared her brow of its cloudy golden hair. "Now," she said coolly, "we carry on, you and I, Kay, to the honour and glory of the land that trusts us in her hour of need... Are you are right again?" "All right, Yellow-hair," he said pleasantly.
The girl waited; and while waiting she cut a long white sliver from the beech-tree and carved an arrow pointing toward the heap of debris. Then, with the keen tip of her trench-knife she scratched on the silvery bark: "An underground way in the windfall. I have followed them. Yellow-hair."
And his slim comrade followed. Half an hour later he waited for the girl to come up along side of him. "Yellow-hair," he said, "this is swale or marsh-grass we are following. And little wild creatures have made a runway through it... as though there were a drinking-place somewhere "
The flashy man had a banjo now and was strumming it and leering at the girl. "What people to encounter in this corner of Paradise," she said laughingly. And, as he did not smile: "You don't suppose there's anything queer about them, do you, Kay?" At that he smiled: "Oh, no, nothing of that sort, Yellow-hair. Only it's rather odd.
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