death about you folks. I sure was."

Peggy put some food before him and ordered him into silence. "Talk
later," she said.

The outlaw turned to Alice. "That explains it. Your Professor Ward
trusted to this man to take care of you and stayed in camp. You can't
blame him."

Gage seemed to have suddenly become old, almost childish. "I never was
lost before," he muttered, sadly. "I reckon something must have went
wrong in my head. 'Pears like I'm gettin' old and foolish."

Alice exchanged glances with the outlaw. It was plain that he was in no
danger from this dazed and weakened old man who could think of nothing
but the loss of his sense of direction.

As the day advanced the sun burned clear. At noon it was warm enough to
leave the door open, and Alice, catching glimpses of the flaming world
of silver and purple and gold, was filled with a desire to quit her dark
corner.

"I'm going to get up!" she exclaimed. "I won't lie here any longer."

"Don't try it!" protested Peggy.

"I'm going to do it!" she insisted. "I can hobble to the door if you
help me."

"I'll carry you," said the outlaw. "Wrap her up and I'll get her a
seat."

And so, while Mrs. Adams wrapped her patient in a blanket, the outlaw
dragged one of the rough, ax-hewn benches to the door and covered it
with blankets. He put a stone to heat and then re-entered just as Alice,
supported by Peggy, was setting foot to the floor. Swiftly,
unhesitating, and very tenderly he put his arms about her and lifted
her to the bench in the doorway before the fire.

It was so sweet to feel that wondrous body in his arms. His daring to do
it surprised her, but her own silent acquiescence, and the shiver of
pleasure which came with the embarrassment of it, confused and troubled
her.

"That's better," he said as he dropped to the ground and drew the
blankets close about her feet. "I'll have a hot stone for you in a
minute."

He went about these ministrations with an inward ecstasy which shone in
his eyes and trembled in his voice. But as she furtively studied his
face and observed the tremor of his hands in tender ministration she
lost all fear of him.

After three days in her dark corner of the hut the sunshine was
wondrously inspiring to the girl, although the landscape on which she
gazed was white and wild as December. It was incredible that only a few
hours lay between the flower-strewn valley of her accident and this
silent and desolate, yet beautiful, wil