men were working at the rocky wall with sledge and drill. There was
that in his manner which compelled her quite as literally as when at
their first meeting he had picked her up in his arms.

As they walked single-file through the narrowing of a drift, she
wondered about him. He was Western, plainly. An employee in the mine,
probably a manager or director or whatever it was they called those in
authority in mines. Plainly, too, he was a man of action and a man who
engaged all her instinctive liking. Something in him at once coerced
her friendliest confidence. These were the admissions she made to
herself. She divined him, moreover, to be a blend of boldness and
timidity. He was bold to the point of telling her things
unconventionally, of beguiling her into remote underground passages
away from the party; yet she understood; she knew at once that he was a
determined but unspoiled gentleman; that under no provocation could he
make a mistake. In any situation of loneliness she would have felt safe
with him--"as with a brother"--she thought. Then, feeling her cheeks
burn, she turned back and said:

"I must tell you he was my brother--that man--that night."

He was sorry and glad all at once. The sorrow being the lesser and more
conventional emotion, he started upon an awkward expression of it,
which she interrupted.

"Never mind saying that, thank you. Tell me something about yourself,
now. I really would like to know you. What do you see and hear and do
in this strange life?"

"There's not much variety," he answered, with a convincing droop of