“He probably makes regular trips through here,” said Mrs. Adams.
But the wounded girl silently differed, for she had read in the man’s eyes and voice a great deal more than belonged to the commonplace character of a forest-ranger. That first vision of his face burned deep.
She had seen on the wall of the station at “the road” the description of a train-robber which tallied closely with this man’s general appearance, and the conviction that she was living in the hidden hut of an outlaw grew into a certainty. “I must not let him suspect my discovery,” she thought.
Mrs. Adams (who had not read the placard) treated the young fellow as if he were one of the forest wardens, manifesting complete confidence in him.
He deftly helped her about breakfast, and when she invited him into the cabin he came readily, almost eagerly, but he approached Alice’s bed with a touch of hesitation, and his glance was softer and his voice gentler as he said:
“Well, how do you stack up this morning?”
“Much better, thank you.”
“Must have been a jolt—my coming in last night the way I did?”
“I guess the ‘jolt’ was mutual. You looked surprised.”
He smiled again, a faint, swift half-smile. “Surprised! That’s no name for it. For a minute I thought I’d fallen clear through. I hope you didn’t get a back-set on account of it.”