in the storm-swept darkness, telling her what he knew was now a
lie--that she was safe, that nothing could harm her. Against him
he felt the tremble and throb of her soft body, and it was this
that filled him with the horror of the thing--the terror of the
thought that her one garment was a bearskin. He had felt, a moment
before, the chill touch of a naked little foot.

And yet he kept saying, with his face against hers:

"It's all right, little sweetheart. We'll come out all right--we
sure will!"





CHAPTER XVI




His first impulse, after those few appalling seconds following
their escape from the fire, was to save something from the cabin.
Still talking to Celie he dropped on his knees and tucked her up
warmly in the bearskin, with her back to a tree. He thanked God
that it was a big skin and that it enveloped her completely.
Leaving her there he ran back through the gate. He no longer
feared the wolves. If they had not already escaped into the forest
he knew they would not attack him in that hot glare of the one
thing above all others they feared--fire. For a space thought of