Her words recalled him to himself immediately; with a little gesture of
impatience as if annoyed at his own weakness, he put from him these
morbid memories of the past. "You wonder--what?" he asked.

She flushed slightly at the thought that he might think her guilty of an
intrusive curiosity, but she could not stop now. She must know more.
Her craving intelligence demanded some explanation. "José," she said
doubtfully and almost involuntarily.

A smile of pure amusement rippled about his mouth. "Yes," he said,
"José. What about him?"

Speech came readily enough to her now. "You know what José is,"
accusingly. "You know the big reward that is offered for him, and yet
you keep him in your cabin and treat him almost like a brother."

"Quite like a brother," he said; "why not? Who would have the heart to
put Pan in prison? Do you think shutting José up behind bars would make
him any better? At any rate, he is safe to do no mischief here, and he
is happy. Would you want us to give him up?"

"I!" She looked at him in surprise and shook her head. "But then we are
different, my father and me. He likes bad company, and I guess I take
after him. But you, they call you Saint Harry, you are respectable."

"Not I," he said earnestly; "you must not accuse me of such things. Look
yonder at that long mountain trail, leading up to the peaks. There are
mile-stones in it. So it is in life. When we have stopped trying to make
people measure up to our standard we have passed one; when we have gone
beyond forgiveness and learned that there is never anything to forgive