“I'm not a regular guide; but as times were hard, and I was out of grub, I took the job.”
“Out of grub!” “job!” And SHE was the “job.” What would Henry Marvin say? It would nearly kill him. She began herself to feel a little frightened, and walked towards the door.
“One moment, miss!”
The young girl hesitated. The man's tone was surly, and yet indicated a certain kind of half-pathetic grievance. HER curiosity got the better of her prudence, and she turned back.
“This morning,” he began hastily, “when we were coming down the valley, you picked me up twice.”
“I picked YOU up?” repeated the astonished Alice.
“Yes, CONTRADICTED me: that's what I mean,—once when you said those rocks were volcanic, once when you said the flower you picked was a poppy. I didn't let on at the time, for it wasn't my say; but all the while you were talking I might have laid for you—”
“I don't understand you,” said Alice haughtily.
“I might have entrapped you before folks. But I only want you to know that I'M right, and here are the books to show it.”
He drew aside the dingy calico curtain, revealed a small shelf of bulky books, took down two large volumes,—one of botany, one of geology,—nervously sought his text, and put them in Alice's outstretched hands.