"Really," she said, "I wish I knew your name. It seems so stupid not to know how to address you. Is that asking too much?"
The man did not answer for some time, and the girl saw his face clouded with somber thought.
"I beg your pardon," she said gently. "I--I ought not to have asked."
"My name is Henry Marston, Miss Andrés," he said deliberately. "But it is not the name by which I am known these days," he added bitterly. "It is an honorable name, and I would like to hear it again--" he paused--"from you."
Sibyl returned gently, "Thank you, Mr. Marston--believe me, I do appreciate your confidence, and--" she in turn hesitated--"and I will keep the trust."
By noon, they had reached Granite Peak in the Galenas, having come by an unmarked way, through the wild country around the head of Clear Creek Canyon.
They had finished lunch, when Marston, looking at his watch, took a small mirror from his pocket and stood gazing expectantly toward the distant valley where Fairlands lay under the blue haze. Presently, a flash of light appeared; then another and another. It was the signal that Aaron King had seen and to which he had called Brian Oakley's attention, that first day of their search.
With his mirror, the man on Granite Peak answered and the girl, watching and understanding that he was communicating with some one, saw his face grow dark with anger. She did not speak.
They had traveled a half mile, perhaps, from the peak, when the man again stopped, saying, "You must dismount here, please."
Removing the things from the saddle, he led the horse a little way down the Galena Valley side of the ridge, and tied the reins to a tree. Then, slapping the animal about the head with his open hand, he forced the horse to break the reins, and started him off toward the distant valley. Again, the girl understood and made no comment.