anyhow?" he asked.

Stampa smiled genially when the questions were translated to him. "I
was talking to the _signorina_," he explained, using his native
tongue, for he was born on the Italian side of the Bernina.

"That counts, but it gives no good reason why he should risk her
life," objected Spencer.

Stampa's weather furrowed cheeks reddened. "There was no danger," he
muttered wrathfully. "Madonna! I would lose the use of another limb
rather than hurt a hair of her head. Is she not my good angel? Has she
not drawn me back from the gate of hell? Risk her life! Are people
saying that because a worm-eaten wheel went to pieces against a
stone?"

"What on earth is he talking about?" demanded Spencer. "Has he been
pestering Miss Wynton this morning with some story of his present
difficulties?"

The manager knew Stampa's character. He put the words in kindlier
phrase. "Does the _signorina_ know that you have lost your situation?"
he said.

Even in that mild form, the suggestion annoyed the old man. He flung
it aside with scornful gesture, and turned to leave the office. "Tell
the gentleman to go to Zermatt and ask in the street if Christian
Stampa the guide would throw himself on a woman's charity," he
growled.

Spencer did not wait for any interpretation. "Hold on," he said
quietly. "What is he going to do now? Work, for a man of his years,
doesn't grow on gooseberry bushes, I suppose."

"Christian, Christian! You are hot-headed as a boy," cried the
manager. "The fact is," he went on, "he came to me to offer his
services. But I have already engaged more drivers than I need, and I
am dismissing some stable men. Perhaps he can find a job in St.
Moritz."

"Are his days as guide ended?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I believe he is as active as ever; but people
won't credit it. And you cannot blame them. When one's safety depends
on a man who may have to cling to an ice covered rock like a fly to a
window-pane, one is apt to distrust a crooked leg."

"Did he have an accident?"

The manager hesitated. "It is part of his sad history," he said. "He
fell, and nearly killed himself; but he was hurrying to see the last
of a daughter to whom he was devoted."

"Is he a local man, then?"

"No. Oh, no! The girl happened to be here when the end came."

"Well, I guess he will suit my limited requirements in the fly and
window-pane business while I remain in Maloja," said Spencer. "Tell
him I am willing to put up ten francs a