"Ith it a mulatto or a Thircuth, or both?" he asked, with affected
anxiety.

Low's Indian phlegm was impervious to such assault. He turned to Teresa,
without apparently noticing her companion. "I turned back," he said
quietly, "as soon as I knew there were strangers here; I thought you
might need me." She noticed for the first time that, in addition to his
rifle, he carried a revolver and hunting knife in his belt.

"Yeth," returned Curson, with an ineffectual attempt to imitate Low's
phlegm; "but ath I didn't happen to be a sthranger to this lady, perhaps
it wathn't nethethary, particularly ath I had two friends--"

"Waiting at the edge of the wood with a led horse," interrupted Low,
without addressing him, but apparently continuing his explanation to
Teresa. But she turned to Low with feverish anxiety.

"That's so--he is an old friend--" she gave a quick, imploring glance at
Curson--"an old friend who came to help me away--he is very kind," she
stammered, turning alternately from the one to the other; "but I told
him there was no hurry--at least to-day--that you--were--very good--too,
and would hide me a little longer, until your plan--you know YOUR plan,"
she added, with a look of beseeching significance to Low--"could be
tried." And then, with a helpless conviction that her excuses, motives,
and emotions were equally and perfectly transparent to both men, she
stopped in a tremble.

"Perhapth it 'th jutht ath well, then, that the gentleman came thtraight
here, and didn't tackle my two friendth when he pathed them," observed