“Well, when men are used to the desert, as I am, they lend a hand where it is needed. That’s not often.”
“But I didn’t want any such work done round my camp.”
“I know, and I excuse you because you’re ignorant of desert ways and needs.”
“The question of excuse for me is offensive.”
Adam, rising abreast of the stone wall he was building, fixed his piercing eyes upon this man. Mrs. Virey stood a little to one side, but not out of range of Adam’s gaze. Did a mocking light show in her shadowy eyes? The doubt, the curiosity in her expression must have related to Adam. That slight, subtle something about her revealed to Adam the inevitableness of disappointment in store for him if he still entertained any hopes of amenable relations with Virey.
“We all have to be excused sometimes,” said Adam, deliberately. “Now I had to excuse you on the score of ignorance of the desert. You chose this place as a camp. It happens to be the most dangerous spot I ever saw. Any moment a stone may roll down that slope to kill you. Any moment the whole avalanche may start. That slope is an avalanche.”
“It’s my business where I camp,” rejoined Virey.
“Were you aware of the danger here?”
“I am indifferent to danger.”
“But you are not alone. You have a woman with you.”