He did not wish to take her to her own camp, he had a strange instinct of possession in her. In some way he felt he had obtained a right to deal with her as he would; he had saved her life twice, once by chance, the other as the result of deliberate and heroic endeavor, and yet his honor and his manhood obliged him to offer to take her to her own people if he could. Hence the question, the answer to which he waited so eagerly.
"It's down the cañon. I am one of Mr. Robert Maitland's party."
The man nodded. He didn't know Robert Maitland from Adam, and he cared nothing about him.
"How far down?" he asked.
"I don't know; how far is it from here to where you—where—where we—"
"About a mile," he replied quickly, fully understanding her reason for faltering.
"Then I think I must have come at least five miles from the camp this morning."
"It will be four miles away then," said the man.
The girl nodded.
"I couldn't carry you that far," he murmured half to himself. "I question if there is any camp left there anyway. Where was it, down by the water's edge?"