"Shall I tell you?"
"No; not now; both your explanation and mine can wait," he replied quickly. "I can stand alone now—see," and he regained his feet, swaying slightly with dizziness, yet smiling down at her as he held forth a hand. "Now you try it; take hold of me until you test your limbs—that was an ugly fall you got when I shot your pony."
She straightened slowly, her cheeks flushing in the keen air, her eyes striving to smile back in response to his challenge.
"That was nothing," she protested, tramping about. "I only went down into the snow, but my arms were bound, and the pony fell on my foot—it feels quite natural now."
"Good. We shall have to tramp a little way. In which direction did Dupont go?"
"Across the ridge there; see, that is his trail."
"Then he never saw our horses out yonder. That is one piece or good luck, at least. The sooner we get to them the better. I have been guilty of enough foolishness to-day to be careful hereafter." He looked across at Hughes' body. "I wonder if that fellow meant to hit me? I never trusted him much, but I did n't expect that. Did you see him fire?"
"Yes, but it was so sudden I could not even cry out. He was upon one knee, and his revolver waved like this as he tried to aim. Dupont saw it, and jumped just as he pulled the trigger."
"I thought so. The poor devil got the wrong man."
"Why? Were those two enemies?"