Yet somehow, when we came to seat ourselves, I was delighted to find myself beside Alisanda at the end of the divan, while Walker was hedged off from her on the other side by Dona Dolores. As the plump little senora chose to tuck up her limbs Turk-fashion, the interval was not narrow. Walker had to perch on the extreme far corner of the divan. Malgares and our host sat across from us, while Dona Marguerite reclined upon the third divan. Alisanda was the only one of the ladies who sat upright. She did not look at me. But for the moment it was enough that her shoulder touched my arm. When all were settled, Malgares plunged into his account, which he rendered in a crisp, clear French that made every statement stand out like a cameo. First of all he gave a brief and modest recital of his own remarkable expedition, dwelling strongest upon his arrangements with the savages to stop us; the vast extent of the all but treeless prairies, and the grandeur of the mighty snow mountains of the North. He then described how our little party had come to the Pawnees and braved their might; how, late as was the season, we had pushed on westward, and how, in the midst of the midwinter's cold, we had clambered about among those huge sierras of rock and snow. As told by him, the account drew _bravo_ after _bravo_ from the little audience. When he described our ascent of what we had supposed to be the Grand Peak, Alisanda flashed at me a glance that put me into a glow of bliss. Malgares was a flattering historian. But he was not satisfied with his own efforts. When it came to the descent of the terrific gorge of the Arkansas by Brown and myself, he broke off in the midst and insisted upon my picturing that awful canyon in my own words. "_Nada_," I hesitated. "I cannot tell it." "You must, Juan!" murmured my lady. To say "no" to her was impossible. I went on with the tale as best I could in my rude French, and related how Brown and I had made our way up the icy ascent of the side ravine. As I described the cutting of footholds and our slow clambering higher and higher out of the chasm, Alisanda's eyes widened and her hands met in a convulsive clasp. Before I had finished she was breathing hard with excitement. The other ladies were hardly less thrilled. Women are so easily startled by the recital of dangers which a man risks as a matter of course. But when I came to our terrible journey in the valley of starvation it was not alone the ladies who were moved. Aside from Walker I felt that all my listeners were friends, and I could not forego the opportunity to describe fully the heroic fortitude with which my indomitable friend and his men had endured their sufferings and struggled on against all odds. If my eyes were wet when I told of the injuries of the poor lads Sparks and Dougherty, there was at least one present who did not consider my emotion unmanly. She bowed her head in her hands and wept.