Carrie gave him a quick glance and turned her head. The firelight touched his face and she noted his grave sympathy.
"Oh!" she said, "I'm a silly little fool! I would come—although I knew you didn't want me."
"I thought you would find things hard," Jim replied, with some embarrassment.
"I do find them hard; that's the trouble, because they're really not hard. The fault's mine; I haven't enough grit."
"You are full of grit," Jim declared. "I've known men knocked out by an easier journey."
"You're trying to be nice and I don't like that. I didn't want you to come just now, but since you have come, sit down and smoke. I meant to be a partner and help you both along."
"But you have helped——"
Carrie looked up quickly. "Oh, you are dull! You don't see I want to confess. It's sometimes a comfort to make yourself look as mean as possible. Afterwards you begin to imagine you're perhaps not quite so bad."
"I don't know if it's worth while to bother about such things," Jim remarked.
"You don't bother. When you're on the trail, you're occupied about the horses and how far you can go. Nothing else matters, and Jake, of course, never bothers at all. He grins. But I insisted on coming and when the man at the hotel wanted to buy you off I made you refuse. You know I did. You were hesitating."