"Finally I had sense enough to give her some money, and after repeating 'yes' innumerable times to her broken questions she finally gave me permission to proceed on my way. I left my horse down at the sheep-shed." "Couldn't you understand anything she said to you?" questioned Hope eagerly. "Not much," he admitted, and Hope, with a relieved little air, which he noticed, sank back among the rocks again. A silence fell over them for a time, then Livingston raised his head and looked at the girl intently. "I think she was trying to tell me something," he said slowly. "She said it was a warning; but I paid no attention to her delirium. I believe she tried to impress upon me that I was in danger. But I was insanely anxious to meet you. She said something that I had heard before, that you and the twins had driven away the men who attacked and killed poor Fritz that night. And this much more I think I understand now, that the 'old man,' whoever she meant, had given her a beating, that the twins were shut up in the stable or somewhere, and that you were a good girl because you had given her all your school money. That much is clear to me now. And also that she was very anxious that I should get out of the country immediately--which seems to be the sentiment of the majority of the people out here. The old woman is no doubt insane." "Oh, yes," agreed the girl, "there's not a doubt but that she's plumb locoed! I'm glad you didn't allow anything she said to trouble your mind. She's a regular old beggar. The money was probably what she was after. You can't believe a word she says!" "Yet she spoke convincingly," mused Livingston. "If I hadn't been so absorbed in the meeting I would have taken more heed of what she said. As it was, I passed her off as a little out of her mind. Of course, I knew you had no hand in that shooting at the corral, had you, Hope?" he asked in a somewhat anxious voice. "A ridiculous idea for that old squaw to get in her head," replied the girl, leaning in a weary fashion back upon the rock. Whatever suspicion Livingston had entertained vanished for the moment. "I am glad," he said. "I don't know exactly why, but I am glad that it isn't so. I shouldn't like to think that you had done such a thing--for me." "The moon takes a long time to set, don't you think?" she remarked. "It must be almost time for daylight." "Are you anxious?" he inquired pointedly. She sat erect in dignified silence and did not reply. "How much longer must you be humored, dear?" he asked, taking both of her hands within his own, and drawing her toward him. "I do not believe that the moonlight will tell lies. Look at me!" She leaped away from him with all her young strength, and stood upon the throne of rocks, scornfully erect. "How bad you are--how wicked to talk to me so, to even think that I would care for you one minute! Surely you must realize that I know your past, _Lord_ Livingston! _Your past!_" she flashed.