“You have risked much for me, but you shall not risk your life again, in my cause. You can not venture cross that bridge again.”
She yielded without further parley and he dropped her wrists at once.
“Please say no more. You must not make me sorry I came. I must go,—I should have gone back instantly.”
“But not across that spider’s web. You must go by the long road. I will give you a horse and ride with you into the valley.”
“It is much nearer by the bridge,—and I have my horse over there.”
“We shall get the horse without trouble,” he said, and she walked beside him through the starlighted wood. As they crossed the open tract she said:
“This is the Port of Missing Men.”
“Yes, here the lost legion made its last stand. There lie the graves of some of them. It’s a pretty story; I hope some day to know more of it from some such authority as yourself.”
“I used to ride here on my pony when I was a little girl, and dream about the gray soldiers who would not surrender. It was as beautiful as an old ballad. I’ll wait here. Fetch the horse,” she said, “and hurry, please.”
“If there are explanations to make,” he began, looking at her gravely.