“Some crime!” she cried, in quite indignant astonishment. Then she laughed scornfully. “Do you believe it?”
“No. If I did, it would make no difference.”
“A criminal! With a price on my head! What can it mean?” This was more to herself than to me, so I plunged into a study of the map, and in a few minutes had made out a part of the route we should have to go.
“I am no criminal, Burgwan,” she said, breaking in suddenly on my study of the map.
“I didn’t need to be told. This is the way we shall have to go at first”; and I drew her attention to the map.
While we were examining it, Chris grew restless, and at length got up and stood sniffing the air and the ground and listening.
“What is it, Chris, old dog?”
He came and nosed my hand and then went a few yards off and pointing towards the ravine, growled.
“Someone is about,” I said, as I folded up the map and put it in my pocket. “Will you go into the hut, Mademoiselle? It may be the guide Georgev—or it may not; and may mean trouble of some sort. Take Chris with you and shut the door. He’ll answer for anyone who tries to bother you. Chris, inside; on guard, good dog.”
He understood and obeyed at once, although his eyes said he would rather stay with me.