The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against Bud's
chest. So Bud lifted his foot and scraped some snow off a nearby log,
and set the baby down there while he took off his coat and wrapped it
around him, buttoning it like a bag over arms and all. The baby watched
him knowingly, its eyes round and dark blue and shining, and gave a
contented little wriggle when Bud picked it up again in his arms.
"Now you're all right till we get to where it's warm," Bud assured it
gravely. "And we'll do some steppin', believe me. I guess maybe you
ain't any more crazy over that Injun smell on yuh, than what I am--and
that ain't any at all." He walked a few steps farther before he added
grimly, "It'll be some jolt for Cash, doggone his skin. He'll about
bust, I reckon. But we don't give a darn. Let him bust if he wants
to--half the cabin's mine, anyway."
So, talking a few of his thoughts aloud to the baby, that presently
went to sleep with its face against his shoulder, Bud tramped steadily
through the snow, carrying Lovin Child in his arms. No remote glimmer of
the wonderful thing Fate had done for him seeped into his consciousness,
but there was a new, warm glow in his heart--the warmth that came from a
child's unquestioning faith in his protecting tenderness.