The amazement of it was that, after her first flurry at the sound of his voice and his half-seen movements up the trail, it should now seem all so commonplace.
“Oh, no, I was well out of his way.”
She started again to cross the trail, stepping quickly, with her eyes down, but again his voice came, less deliberate this time, and with words in something less than intelligible sequence.
“Excuse me, Miss—but—now how many miles to—what’s the name of the nearest settlement—I suppose you live hereabouts?”
“What did you say?”
“I say is there any place where I could get to stop a day or so in Amalon?”
“Oh—I didn’t understand—I think so; at least, my father sometimes—but there’s Elder Wardle, he often takes in travellers.”
“You say your father—”
“Not always—I don’t know, I’m sure—” she looked doubtful.
“Oh, all right! I’ll ask him,—if you’ll show me his place.”