girl from a wild canyon.

. . . . . . . . . . .

That night after supper, when Withers and Shefford sat alone before
the blazing logs in the huge fireplace, the trader laid his hand on
Shefford's and said, with directness and force:

"I've lived my life in the desert. I've met many men and have been a
friend to most. . . . You're no prospector or trader or missionary?"

"No," replied Shefford.

"You've had trouble?"

"Yes."

"Have you come in here to hide? Don't be afraid to tell me. I won't
give you away."

"I didn't come to hide."

"Then no one is after you? You've done no wrong?"

"Perhaps I wronged myself, but no one else," replied Shefford,
steadily.

"I reckoned so. Well, tell me, or keep your secret--it's all one
to me."