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"Did you"--he began, and stopped; "did you notice a"--he stopped again.

For my part I privately wished this saint wouldn't rub my uninteresting surname into me every time he spoke. As we dismounted near the tents I leaned against my saddle and asked further concerning the object of his loving anxiety. Was Ned Ferry generous, pleasant, frank?

"Nor no woman?" I asked, and again across the back of my neck my two companions gazed at each other.

"Nonsense!" muttered both men, and I liked them the better.

"Why, I can read my safety in your face. You can't read anything in mine; you're afraid to look."

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