"I'm afraid he's exaggerating, but it's a good sign. Anyway, I'm glad to hear he's conscious."
"He was conscious before you brought him home. He says he tried to speak to you, but you didn't hear him."
"That's possible," Harding replied. "The trail wasn't very good—and we were busy."
Beatrice gave him a strange look.
"So one would imagine! There was probably no trail at all. Two of our friends who live half a mile off don't think they can get back. It's fortunate for us that you and your partner had the strength and courage——"
"What could we do?" Harding asked. "You wouldn't have expected us to leave him in the bluff?"
Beatrice's eyes sparkled, and a flush of color crept into her face. Harding thought she was wonderfully beautiful, and feared it was unwise to look at her lest he should make a fool of himself.
"I can't say that I wouldn't have expected you to give him your coat; but that was very fine of you," she said. "You must have known the risk you took. When you came in you looked worse than he did."
It struck Harding as significant that she should have noticed his appearance in the midst of her alarm; but it might not mean much, after all. Women were often more observant than men.
"Then I ought to have been ashamed. It was the shock we were afraid of. You see, after a bad accident there's often a collapse, and when one's in that state even moderate cold is dangerous."