"You have a good head, Miss Andres?"
Sibyl smiled. "I was born in the mountains, Mr. Marston," she answered.
"You need not fear for me."
Drawing near to the very brink of the precipice, he led her, by a narrow
ledge, across the face of the cliff; and then, by an easier path, down the
opposite wall of the gorge.
It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at a little log cabin
that was so hidden in the wild tangle of mountain growth at the bottom of
the narrow canyon as to be invisible from a distance of a hundred yards.
The girl knew that they had reached the end of their journey. Nearly
exhausted by the hours of physical exertion, and worn with the mental and
nervous strain, she sank down upon the blankets that her companion spread
for her upon the ground.
"As soon as it is dark, I will cook a hot supper for you," he said,
regarding her kindly. "Poor child, this has been a hard, hard, day for
you. For me--"
Fighting to keep back the tears, she tried to thank him. For a moment he
stood looking down at her. Then she saw his face grow black with rage,
and, clenching his great fists, he turned away.
While waiting for the darkness that would hide the smoke of the fire, the
man gathered cedar boughs from trees near-by, and made a comfortable bed
in the cabin, for the girl.
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