"Now stop that," said he. "Just tell the truth, or I'll follow him, and he shall have a taste of my bowie-knife before morning. What did he want? Make a short story of it, for I am hungry."
"He had been traveling among the mountains with some friends, and got hurt. They wanted to stay here, but I would not keep them and they went away."
"So far so good! You was afraid I should kill him, eh?"
"Yes," she answered; "but more afraid that he would recognize me."
"Then you didn't speak to him?"
"No; he had fainted. I was not likely to make myself known to any of my former friends," she added, bitterly.
"As Phil Yates the gambler's wife? No, I suppose not. Well, he is gone, so let the matter rest. Come, you're a rather good girl. I want you to dress yourself and come down to supper—look your prettiest."
"Who is there?"
"Oh, mostly our set of fellows."