She paused for a moment, then turned and ran toward the upland
forest.
Not a moment hesitating or faltering as affected by the girl's action was
the young man who had tumbled from the tree bed. The blood dancing within
him and the great natural impulse of gaining what was greatest to him in
life controlled him now. He was hot with fierce lovingness. He ran well,
but he did not run better than the graceful thing before him.
Even for the critical being of the great cities of to-day, the one who
"manages" races of all sorts, it would have been worth while to see this
race in the forest. As the doe leaps, scarcely touching the ground, ran
Lightfoot. As the wolf or hound runs, less swift for the moment, but
tireless, ran the man behind her. Yet of all the men in the cave region,
this flying girl wanted most this man to take her! It was the maidenly
force-dreading instinct alone which made her run.
Ab, dogged and enduring, lost no space as the race led away toward the
hill and home of the fleet thing ahead of him. There were miles to be
covered, and therein he had hope. They were on the straight path to
Hilltop's cave, though there were divergent, curving side paths almost as
available; but to avoid her pursuer, the fugitive could take none of
these. There were cross-cuts everywhere.
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