They travelled about, by road and rail, from one summer hotel to another--there are many of them in the White Mountains--climbing mountains, sailing on ponds, and honeymooning it delightfully all day long, and now they were arriving at Gorham by the evening train, meaning to ascend Mount Washington, already distinguished by his snow-tipped summit, on the morrow. It was a purple evening, with the eastward slopes of the valley reddening in the afterglow, while cool blue shadows stole out of hollows to the westward, forerunners of the twilight. The people on the platform stood in bright relief as the train drew up at the station, and Martha's eye took them all in as she alighted. "What?" she cried, "General Considine! _you_ here?" She felt a bump between her shoulders from the wallet of Ralph close behind her, as though he stumbled. "Ralph!" and she turned round, but Ralph was gone--gone back for something left behind no doubt. "General," and she ran up to him and took his hand, while Considine looked disturbed, and said nothing. "What have you been about, general? Nobody has seen you, nobody knew you were away; and one of your friends--you know who--is far from pleased, I can tell you. But say!--your arm in a sling? Oh, general, you have not been fighting, at _your_ time of day, I do hope. When I was a girl we always said a Southern man must have been fighting if he was tied up any way. What have you been doing? A hunting accident?" "Madam," Considine began, clearing his throat, and looking tall and sternly in the good woman's face, who was regarding him with such friendly eyes. He coughed again, his face softened, and showed signs of discomposure. How could he speak as he felt to this good soul about her own husband, and tell her he was a murderer? He would have liked to get away from her without saying anything; but she had mentioned "a friend," the friend to whom he was at that moment hastening back to apologize for, or at least to explain, his absence. He would like to know beforehand what the friend was saying, and for that, self-control and reticence, combined if necessary with invention, were needed. He coughed again. Martha's last words, "hunting accident," still hanging on his ear, came to his tongue-tip of itself. "Yes. Hunting accident--gun accident, that is. Thought I was killed. Insensible. A gang of tramps found me, and robbed me--they wore my own clothes before my eyes, the rascals--and saved my life. And now that they have cashed the cheque they made me give them in payment of the treatment, they have discharged me cured. But what do the Miss Stanleys say?"