"You mean you got help after you had pulled me out of all danger,"
Hazelton retorted. "And now you've pulled our stranger through.
Or the next thing to it. His fever is gone, and he's mending."
"Nothing much ailed him, I reckon, but intense anxiety and too little food. Our man is resting, now, and getting strong."
"But he's a mystery to me," Harry continued.
"How so?"
"I can't make anything out of him."
"That's right."
"Do you figure out anything concerning him?" Hazelton inquired.
"I don't want to. It isn't any of my business. Our unknown guest is very plainly a gentleman, and that's enough to know about him. If he hasn't told us anything more then it's because he thinks his affairs are of more importance to himself than to us."
"Oh, of course, I didn't mean that I wanted to pry into his affairs,"
Harry protested.
"No; and we won't do it, either, Harry. If our guest should happen to be missing some morning, without even a note of thanks left behind, we'll understand what it cost him to slip away without saying farewell."