“Why didn’t you let me know at first?” Nash broke in quickly. “Wait. I’ll fix it in a jiffy.”
He hurried down the slope to where a little spring bubbled out from its mossy bed. In the crystal, snow-fed waters he dipped his handkerchief, wrung it out, and returned.
“Now just let me tie this around that cut, Miss Breen. This mountain water has wonderful healing properties.” He accomplished his task while the girl watched him in silence. “There,” he said, drawing down her sleeve. “Isn’t that better?”
“Oh, a great deal,” she answered.
“Well, suppose you excuse me for ten or fifteen minutes, while I take a farewell trip into the tunnel. You can rest here, and——”
“Why can’t I go with you?” she interrupted.
“Do you really want to go?” He looked down into her face with a surprised frown. “It isn’t very clean—and it is very damp and cold. Besides, you’ll have to crawl on your hands and knees for a hundred yards.”
His warning did not appear to frighten her. “Oh, I don’t care about that,” she declared eagerly. “And I would like to see just how the thing is arranged.”
“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ve some candles in my pocket. I’ll light one, and you follow close behind me. All ready?”
“All ready,” she repeated, her eyes sparkling at the thought of the adventure.