"Of course! My nerves are really horribly unsettled, and I was sent to the mountains for quietness. How could any one expect me to get it when I couldn't even sleep for fear of that man or some one else coming back for these documents?" "They are, I think, of considerable importance to your husband," said Brooke. "That is precisely why I would like to feel that they were safe in your tent. Nobody would expect you to have them there." Brooke turned his head a little so that he could see Barbara's face. "I appreciate your confidence," he said, and the girl noticed that his voice was a trifle hoarse. "Still, I must point out that I am almost a stranger to Mr. Devine and you." Barbara smiled a little, but there was something that set the man's heart beating in her eyes. "I am not sure that everybody would be so willing to make the most of the fact, but I feel quite sure my sister's confidence is warranted," she said. "That, of course, does not sound very nice, but you have made it necessary." Brooke, who glanced curiously at the single seal, laid down the packet, and Mrs. Devine smiled. "_I_ feel ever so much easier now that is off my mind," she said. "Still, I shall expect you to sleep with the papers under your pillow." She went out, and left him and Barbara alone again, but Brooke knew that the struggle was over and the question decided once for all. The girl's trust in him had not only made those papers inviolable so far as he was concerned, but had rendered a breach with Saxton unavoidable. He knew now that he could never do what the latter had expected from him. "You appeared almost unwilling to take the responsibility," said the girl. Brooke smiled curiously. "I really think that was the case," he said. "In fact, your confidence almost hurt me. One feels the obligation of proving it warranted--in every respect--you see. That is partly why I shall go away the day we swing the first load of props across the canyon." Barbara felt a trace of disconcertion. "But my brother-in-law may ask you to do something else for him." "I scarcely think that is likely," said Brooke, with a little dry smile. Barbara said nothing further, and when she left him Brooke was once more sensible of a curious relief. It would, he knew, cost him a strenuous effort to go away, but he would, at least, be freed from the horrible necessity of duping the girl, who, it seemed, believed in him. When Jimmy arrived that evening to accompany him back to his tent at the canyon, and expressed his satisfaction at the fact that he did not appear very much the worse, he smiled a trifle drily. "That," he said, "is a little astonishing. I am, I think, warranted in believing myself six thousand dollars worse off than when I went away." Jimmy stared at him incredulously. "Well," he said, "I never figured you had that many, and I don't quite see how you could have let them get away from you here. Something you didn't expect has happened?"