"But why, again?"
"I rather guess them letters'll tell," answered the old man evasively, "an' I like you, and I don't want to see you throwed away."
"Read the letters," he said. "They'll tell the story. Good night."
"What do you mean?" asked the girl, curiously, thrilling to the solemnity of the moment, the seriousness, the kind affection of the old frontiersman, the weird scene, the fire light, the tents gleaming ghost-like, the black wall of the cañon and the tops of the mountain range broadening out beneath the stars in the clear sky where they twinkled above her head. The strange and terrible story, and now the letters in her hand which somehow seemed to be imbued with human feeling, greatly affected her! Kirkby patted her on the shoulder.
"Read the letters," he said. "They'll tell the story. Good-night."