"For you, then, is there no such thing as friendship?" she asked.

"On the border men are serious."

This recalled his sister's conversation regarding the attentions of
the young men, that they would follow her, fight for her, and give her
absolutely no peace until one of them had carried her to his cabin
a bride.

She could not carry on the usual conventional conversation with this
borderman, but remained silent for a time. She realized more keenly
than ever before how different he was from other men, and watched
closely as he stood gazing out over the river. Perhaps something she
had said caused him to think of the many pleasures and joys he missed.
But she could not be certain what was in his mind. She was not
accustomed to impassive faces and cold eyes with unlit fires in their
dark depths. More likely he was thinking of matters nearer to his
wild, free life; of his companion Wetzel somewhere out beyond those
frowning hills. Then she remembered that the colonel had told her of
his brother's love for nature in all its forms; how he watched the
shades of evening fall; lost himself in contemplation of the last
copper glow flushing the western sky, or became absorbed in the bright
stars. Possibly he had forgotten her presence. Darkness was rapidly
stealing down upon them. The evening, tranquil and gray, crept over
them with all its mystery. He was a part of it. She could not hope to
understand him; but saw clearly that his was no common personality.
She wanted to speak, to voice a sympathy strong within her; but she
did not know what to say to this borderman.

"If what your sister tells me of the border is true, I may soon need a