any woman in his arms before, but he had occasionally had to pack--as it
is termed in the West--hundred-and-forty-pound flour bags over a rocky
portage, and, though the comparison did not strike him as a happy one, he
thought the girl was not quite so heavy as that. He was conscious of a
curious thrill and a certain stirring of his blood, but this, he decided,
must be sternly ignored. His task was not an easy one, and he stumbled
once or twice, but he accomplished it and set the girl down safely on
firmer ground.

"Now," he said, "there's only the drop to the dale, but we must endeavor
to keep out of the beck."

His voice and air were unembarrassed, though he was breathless, and
Evelyn fancied that in this and the incident of the jacket he had at last
revealed the forceful, natural manners of the West. It was the first
glimpse she had had of them, and she was not displeased. The man had
merely done what was most advisable, with practical sense.

A little farther on, a shoot of falling water swept out of the mist above
and came splashing down a crag, spread out in frothing threads. It flowed
across their path, reunited in a deep gully, and then fell tumultuously
into the beck, which was now ten or twelve feet below them. They clung to
the rock as they traced it downward, stepping cautiously from ledge to
ledge and from slippery stone to stone. At times a stone plunged into the
mist beneath them, and Vane grasped the girl's arm and held out a
steadying hand, but he was never fussy nor needlessly concerned. When she
wanted help, it was offered at the right moment; but that was all. Had
she been alarmed, her companion's manner would have been more comforting
than persistent solicitude. He was, she decided, one who could be relied
upon in an emergency.