“You have horses, then?” she asked, in a tone of satisfaction.
“I have this one, that’s all;” and I fastened it up to a tree close by the hut.
“You are looking very serious, Burgwan. Has anything more happened?”
“A little misunderstanding with the men. Nothing more serious than I’ve had before. Have you breakfasted?”
“Yes. I have yours here;” and she brought out to me coffee and a steaming dish of food which she had prepared for me with her own dainty hands. She might have been a witch, indeed, for the cleverness with which she had concocted a savoury meal from the rough fare at her disposal.
I was very hungry, and while I ate it with thankfulness and relish she fed Chris.
“The dog takes to you, readily,” I said.
“Yes. Good Chris,” and he wagged his tail and looked up at her. “He is another mystery, Burgwan—like that watch;” and she smiled.
“Yes; and in his way quite as reliable.”
“It is not a breed often found—in the hills.”