"A very peculiar thing happened to me this morning, Mr. Carey."
"Yes?" he replied, trying to keep the note of expectancy out of his voice.
Averil nodded gravely. "I crossed the Frontier," she said, "and rode into the mountains. I thought I heard a child crying. I lost my way and fell among thieves."
"Yes?" said Toby again. He looked up, frankly interested this time.
"I was shot at," she resumed. "It was my own fault, of course. I shouldn't have gone. My brother-in-law warned me very seriously against going an inch beyond the Frontier only last night. Well, one buys one's experience. I certainly shall never go again, not for a hundred wailing babies."
"Probably a bird," remarked Toby practically.
"Probably," assented Averil, equally practical. "To continue: I didn't know what to do. I was horribly frightened. I had lost my bearings. And then out of the very midst of my enemies there came a friend."
"Ah!" said Toby quickly. "The right sort?"
"There is only one sort," she said, with a touch of dignity.
"And what did he do?" said Toby, with eager interest.