"There I've sat, on that hill," he continued, "since two o'clock
last night, waiting for daylight so I could ask you to help a
miserable wretch that's just starving to death for the sound of a
girl's voice, and the sight of a girl's smile. Isn't this square,
waiting for you, and telling you the whole truth? I never saw her
but once, and that was from this same hill. She didn't know I was
watching; it was yesterday. Maybe all I'm saying sounds just crazy
to you, and I reckon I am out of my senses, but until I saw her I
didn't know how heart-sick I was of the whole business."

"It IS kinder lonesome," remarked the other gruffly. He lowered
his gun and leaned on it, irresolutely. "You've sure touched me in
the right spot, son, for I knows all you mean and more that you
ain't even ever dreampt of. But you see, we don't know nothing
about your name, your character, if you've got one, nor what you
really intends. I like your looks and the way you talk, fine, just
fine, but I've saw bobcats that was mighty sleek and handsome when
they didn't know I was nigh."

"My name in Wilfred Compton. I--I have a letter or two in my pocket
that I got a long time ago; they'd tell something about me but I'd
rather not show 'em, as they're private--"

"From your gal, I reckon?" asked Willock more mildly.

"Yes," he answered gloomily.

"Carried 'em as long as a year?"