"Scarcely—else I would not be coming from this direction," laughed Mitchell. "You have nothing to fear from me, if it is as I surmise. I claim to be a gentleman, though in rather rough guise just now—but that matters little. Yonder comes my train. You are welcome to all it affords, sir. As for the lady, my daughter will be pleased to supply her wants as far as she can."
"Thank God!" murmured the woman, springing forward, and, seizing Mitchell's hardened hand, she moistened it with tears. "You will protect us from that—from those dreadful men?"
"With my life, lady," warmly returned the wagon-master, deeply affected, yet feeling not a little curiosity regarding the strangers, wondering to what he was pledging himself, and who "those dreadful men" could be.
"You are very kind, sir, but my heart is too full of gratitude to thank you now as you deserve. When you hear our sad story, you will not wonder that we are weary and worn out and need rest. Bear up, daughter—we are safe with good friends, at last!"
"But, father—these men—they must have perceived us?" answered the woman, tremblingly.
"Perhaps not, but—"
"If there is any danger, sir, tell me what it is, so that I can put my friends upon their guard. We all know how to handle a rifle, and it must be a strong force to trouble us while on guard," proudly interrupted Mitchell.
"There may be danger, but I hardly think it will come near. We were pursued by a party of mountain outlaws, at least until a short time since. But they don't number over a dozen, at most. They would never dare attack here, unless joined by their comrades at the Retreat."
"We will be on the look-out for them. But you must need refreshments. Such as we can offer is at your command. After that, I should like to hear your story. Naturally, this strange meeting has greatly excited my curiosity."
"I do not need much—only a drink of water, or something stronger, if it is handy. As for my daughter Mabel, here, she is entirely worn out. If you will be so kind—you spoke of a daughter?"