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I made no reply. He looked momentous, leaned to me sidewise with a hand horizontally across his mouth, and whispered a name. It was new to me. "Charlie Toliver?" I murmured, for we were at the tent door.

We listened again. "They've gone the wrong way," I said, still savage.

"No," he replied, "I came the wrong way."

"Oh!--good-bye, just anybody?" I asked; and thereupon she gathered up all her misplaced trust in me, all her maiden ignorance of what is in man, and all her sweet daring, to murmur--

"It's twenty miles off; why are you not with it? What are you doing here?"

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