her heart, indignantly, almost as quickly as it came to her.
Instinctively she felt quite certain that duplicity did not form any
portion of his nature. They had not been traitor's arms which had so
bravely (and so firmly) clasped her for the quick and risky dash across
that terrifying belt of fire!

"No," said she, determined to give him fullest measure of due credit, "I
didn't help you none. I didn't help you none--an' you did what I don't
believe any other man I ever knew could do. I'm--"

Again she paused, again at loss for words, again the quest failed
wholly.

"I'm much obleeged," said she.

Then, suddenly, the thought came to her of that other and less
prepossessing "foreigner" whom, that day, she had seen there in her
mountains. She described him carefully to Layson, and asked if he could
guess who he had been and what his business could have been.
Descriptions are a sorry basis for the recognition of a person thought
to be far miles away, a person unassociated in one's mind with the
surroundings he has suddenly appeared in; and, therefore, Layson, who
really knew the man and who, had he identified him with the unknown
visitor, would have been surprised, intensely curious, and, possibly,
suspicious, could offer her no clue to his identity.




CHAPTER IV