"Yes, my name is Jack."
But he did not seem inclined to give any further information on the subject that just then was of interest to her, and she did not like to question further, but contented herself with observing:
"I shan't call you Genesee any more."
"Just as you like, Miss."
Again came that crazy desire of hers to laugh, and although she kept silent, it was a convulsive silence—one of heaving bosom and quivering shoulders. To hide it, she moved restlessly, changing her position somewhat, and glancing about her.
"Not much farther to go," she remarked; "won't they be surprised to find you carrying me into camp like this? I wonder if Betty came this way, or if they found her—the little vixen! There is only one more hill to cross until we reach camp—is there not?"
"Only one more."
"And both Mowitza and yourself will need a good rest when we get there," she remarked. "Your arm must feel paralyzed. Do you know I was just thinking if you had found me dead in that gulch, you would have had to carry me back over this trail, just like this. Ugh! What a dismal ride, carrying a dead woman!"
His arm closed around her quickly, and he drew a deep breath as he looked at her.
"I don't know," he said in a terse way, as if through shut teeth; "perhaps it wouldn't have been so dismal, for I might never have come back. I might have staid there—with you."