had evidently availed herself of the change of clothing he had brought
her, for her late garments were hanging from the hastily-devised wooden
pegs driven in the wall. The young man gazed around him with mixed
feelings of gratification and uneasiness. His presence had been
dispossessed in a single hour; his ten years of lonely habitation had
left no trace that this woman had not effaced with a deft move of her
hand. More than that, it looked as if she had always occupied it; and
it was with a singular conviction that even when she should occupy it no
longer it would only revert to him as her dwelling that he dropped the
bark shutters athwart the opening, and left it to follow her.

To his quick ear, fine eye, and abnormal senses, this was easy enough.
She had gone in the direction of this morning's camp. Once or twice he
paused with a half-gesture of recognition and a characteristic "Good!"
at the place where she had stopped, but was surprised to find that her
main course had been as direct as his own. Deviating from this direct
line with Indian precaution, he first made a circuit of the camp,
and approached the shattered trunk from the opposite direction. He
consequently came upon Teresa unawares. But the momentary astonishment
and embarrassment were his alone.

He scarcely recognized her. She was wearing the garments he had brought
her the day before--a certain discarded gown of Miss Nellie Wynn, which
he had hurriedly begged from her under the pretext of clothing the wife
of a distressed overland emigrant then on the way to the mines. Although
he had satisfied his conscience with the intention of confessing the
pious fraud to her when Teresa was gone and safe from pursuit, it
was not without a sense of remorse that he witnessed the sacrilegious
transformation. The two women were nearly the same height and size; and
although Teresa's maturer figure accented the outlines more strongly, it