se, I could not argue the matter then, but
I fancy my climbing experience is far greater than yours, Mr.
Spencer."

His sheer impudence was admirable. He even smiled in the superior way
of an expert lecturing a novice. But Spencer did not smile.

"Do you really want to hear my views on your conduct?" he said.

"No, thanks. The discussion might prove interesting, but we can
adjourn it to the coffee and cigar period after dinner."

His eyes fell under Spencer's contemptuous glance. Yet he carried
himself bravely. Though the man he meant to kill, and another man who
had read his inmost thought in time to prevent a tragedy, were looking
at him fixedly, he turned away with a laugh on his lips.

"I am afraid, Miss Wynton, you will regard me in future as a broken
reed where Alpine excursions are concerned," he said.

"You were mistaken--that is obvious," said Helen frankly. "But so was
Barth. He agreed that the storm would be only a passing affair. Don't
you think we are very deeply indebted to Mr. Spencer and Stampa for
coming to our assistance?"

"I do, indeed. Stampa, one can reward in kind. This sort of thing used
to be his business, I hear. As for Mr. Spencer, a smile from you will
repay him tenfold."

"Herr Spencer," broke in Stampa, "you go on with the _signorina_ and
see that she does not slip. She is tired. Marcus Bauer and I have
matters to discuss."

The old man's unwonted harshness appealed to the girl as did the host
of other queer happenings on that memorable day. Bower moved uneasily.
A vindictive gleam shot from his eyes. Helen missed none of this. But
she was fatigued, and her feet were cold and wet, while the sleet
encountered on the upper glacier had almost soaked her to the skin.
Nevertheless, she strove bravely to lighten the cloud that seemed to
have settled on the men.

"That means a wordy warfare," she said gayly. "I pity you, Mr. Bower.
You cannot wriggle out of your difficulty. The snow will soon be a
foot deep in the valley. Goodness only knows what would have become of
us up there in the hut!"

He bowed gracefully, with a hint of the foreign air she had noted once
before. "I would have brought you safely out of greater perils," he
said; "but every dog has his day, and this is Stampa's."

"_En route!_" cried the guide impatiently. He loathed the sight of
Bower standing there, smiling and courteous, in the presence of one
whom he regarded as a Heaven-sent friend and protectress. Spencer