meantime, while my men attend to the freight, may we not talk?"

Chloe assented, and the two seated themselves upon a log. It was then,
for the first time that the girl noticed that one side of Lapierre's
face--the side he had managed to keep turned from her--was battered and
disfigured by some recent misadventure. Noticed, too, the really fine
features of him--the dark, deep-set eyes that seemed to smoulder in
their depths, the thin, aquiline nose, the shapely lips, the clean-cut
lines of cheek and jaw.

"You have been hurt!" she cried. "You have met with an accident!"

The man smiled, a smile in which cynicism blended with amusement.

"Hardly an accident, I think, Miss Elliston, and, in any event, of
small consequence." He shrugged a dismissal of the subject, and his
voice assumed a light gaiety of tone.

"May we not become better acquainted, we two, who meet in this far
place, where travellers are few and worth the knowing?" There was no
cynicism in his smile now, and without waiting for a reply he
continued: "My name you already know. I have only to add that I am an
adventurer in the wilds--explorer of _hinterlands_, free-trader,
freighter, sometime prospector--casual cavalier." He rose, swept the
Stetson from his head, and bowed with mock solemnity.

"And now, fair lady, may I presume to inquire your mission in this land
of magnificent wastes?" Chloe's laughter was genuine as it was
spontaneous.