Frank explained, and the guide listened, with an expression of derision on his face. "I'll allow you don't know northin' abaout takin' picters," drawled the man. "I hed my picter took up at Billings last winter, an' ther man as took it didn't hev ter go through no such fussin' as thet." "How do you know?" "Wa-al, I know." "But how do you know?" "I jest know, thet's how!" Frank laughed. "You are like some other people who know everything about anything they don't know anything about." That was quite enough to start the old fellow, and he seemed ready to fight at the drop of the hat; but, at this moment, something happened to divert his attention. Out of the darkness stalked a man, who calmly and deliberately advanced toward the party. "Halt thar!" cried Old Rocks, catching up a rifle and covering the stranger. The man did not pay the least attention to the command, but continued to advance. "Halt, or I'll shoot!" shouted the guide. Still the unknown refused to obey, and, to the bewilderment of Old Rocks, he walked straight up to the muzzle of the weapon, where he stopped, saying: "I knew you wouldn't shoot. If you had, you could not have killed me. Nothing can kill me, because I have sought death everywhere, and I have not been able to find it. It is he who flees from death who finds it first." Then he sat down. "Wa-al, dern me!" gasped Old Rocks. "I dunno why I didn't soak yer; but thar wuz somethin' held me back." "It was the hand of fate." The man was dressed roughly, but he carried a handsome rifle. His wide-brimmed hat was slouched over his eyes, so the expression of his face could not have been seen very well, even if it had not been covered by a full brown beard. His hair was long and unkempt. Having seated himself on the ground, he sat and stared into the fire for some moments before speaking again. Finally he turned a bit, saying: "Who was singing here a short time ago?" Frank explained that he had been singing, and the stranger said: "I don't know why I should wish to take a look at you, for you caused me more misery than I have known for a year." "Thot's a compliment fer ye're singing, Frankie!" chuckled Barney. "I tried not to listen," said the stranger; "but I could not tear myself away. What right has a man without a home to listen to songs that fill his soul with memories of home and little ones!" He bowed his face on his hands, and his body shook a bit, betraying that he was struggling to suppress his emotions. After a moment, Old Rocks said: "I reckons I knows yer now. You're the hermit." The man did not stir or speak. "Ain't yer the hermit?" asked the guide.