will, I think, admit that it has some movements that are automatic.

"Hope I didn't disturb ye," said Rand, pointing to the flag-staff.

The young lady slightly turned her head. "No," she said; "but I didn't
know anybody was here, of course. Our PARTY"--she emphasized the word,
and accompanied it with a look toward the further extremity of the
plateau, to show she was not alone--"our party climbed this ridge,
and put up this pole as a sign to show they did it." The ridiculous
self-complacency of this record in the face of a man who was evidently
a dweller on the mountain apparently struck her for the first time. "We
didn't know," she stammered, looking at the shaft from which Rand had
emerged, "that--that--" She stopped, and, glancing again towards the
distant range where her friends had disappeared, began to edge away.

"They can't be far off," interposed Rand quietly, as if it were the most
natural thing in the world for the lady to be there. "Table Mountain
ain't as big as all that. Don't you be scared! So you thought nobody
lived up here?"

She turned upon him a pair of honest hazel eyes, which not only
contradicted the somewhat meretricious smartness of her dress, but was
utterly inconsistent with the palpable artificial color of her hair,--an
obvious imitation of a certain popular fashion then known in artistic
circles as the "British Blonde,"--and began to ostentatiously resume a
pair of lemon-colored kid gloves. Having, as it were, thus indicated her
standing and respectability, and put an immeasurable distance between
herself and her bold interlocutor, she said impressively, "We
evidently made a mistake: I will rejoin our party, who will, of course,
apologize."