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There was nothing for it but to obey. He dismounted, feeling

himself a humbug and a scoundrel. He sat down on a mossy rock,

his back against another, while she trailed the reins and joined

him.

"You are better now, aren't you?" she asked, as she seated

herself on an adjacent bowlder.

Gruffly he answered: "I'm all right."

She thought she understood. Men do not like to be coddled. She

began to talk cheerfully of the first thing that came into her

head. He made the necessary monosyllabic responses when her

speech put it up to him, but she saw that his mind was brooding

over something else. Once she saw his gaze go up to the point on

the cliff reached by the fugitive.

But it was not until they were again in the saddle that he spoke.

"Yes, he got what was coming to him. He had no right to

complain."

"That's what my father says. I don't deny the justice of it, but

whenever I think of it, I feel sorry for him."

"Why?"