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Yet she remembered now that it had been while she was telling of

the fate of the traitor Burke that she had driven him to his lie.

Or had he not told it first when she pointed out Lost Valley at

his feet? Yes, it was at that moment she had noticed his pallor.

He had, at least, conscience enough to be ashamed of what he was

doing. But she recognized a wide margin of difference between the

possibilities of his guilt. It was one thing to come to the

valley for an escaped murderer; it was quite another to use the

hospitality of his host as a means to betray the friends of that

host. Deep in her heart she could not find it possible to convict

him of the latter alternative. He was too much a man, too vitally

dynamic. No; whatever else he was, she felt sure he was not so

hopelessly lost to decency. He had that electric spark of

self-respect which may coexist with many faults, but not with

treachery.

CHAPTER IX -- A SHOT FROM BALD KNOB