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The girl spoke again softly, almost as if she were in the

presence of that far-off Nemesis. "I suppose he deserved it. It's

an awful thing to be a traitor; to sell the people who have

befriended you. We can't put ourselves in his place and know why

he did it. All we can say is that we're glad--glad that we have

never known men who do such things. Do you think people always

felt a sort of shrinking when they were near him, or did he seem

just like other men?"

Glancing at the man who rode beside her, she cried out at the

stricken look on his face. "It's your heart again. You're worn

out with anxiety and privations. I should have remembered and

come slower," she reproached herself.

"I'm all right--now. It passes in a moment," he said hoarsely.

But she had already slipped from the saddle and was at his bridle

rein. "No--no. You must get down. We have plenty of time. We'll

rest here till you are better."