Part 30 (1/2)
Alice spoke first. ”We came up with a geological survey. I got hurt and they had to leave us behind.”
”Where's your party gone?”
”Up to the glaciers.”
”When did they leave?”
”Yesterday morning.”
”When do you expect them back?”
”Not for two or three days.”
He seemed to ponder a moment. ”You say you're hurt? Where?”
”My horse slipped and fell on my foot.”
”Wait a minute,” he commanded. ”I'll rustle a candle. I left one here.”
When his form came out of the dark blur behind his candle Alice perceived that he was no ordinary hunter. He was young, alert, and very good-looking, although his face was stern and his mouth bitter. He laid aside his hat as he approached the bunk in which the two women were cowering as mice tremble before a cat. For a full minute he looked down at them, but at last he smiled and said, in a jocular tone:
”You're sure-enough women, I can see that. You'll excuse me--but when a man comes back to a shack in the middle of the night in a place like this and finds a couple of women in a bunk he's likely to think he's seeing pictures in his sleep.”
”I can understand that,” Alice returned, recovering her self-command.
”You're the ranger, I suppose? I told my friend here that you might return.”
”I'm mighty glad I did,” he said, heartily.
”Thank you; you're very kind.”
He bent a keen glare upon her. ”What's your name?”
”Alice Mansfield.”
”What's your friend's name?”
”Mrs. Adams.”
”Are you a missis, too?”
She hesitated. This was impertinent, but then she herself was an intrusive guest. ”No,” she answered, ”I am not married.”
”Where are you from?”
”New York City.”
”You're a long way from home.”
”Yes, I'm feeling that this minute.” She drew the coverlet a little closer to her chin.