"It is kind of you, monsieur," she said. "But I cannot stay. I am pledged to make the hunt--not only for the mine but for the man who killed my father. That is not an errand that I can delegate." "I'm afraid there ain't no chance to find the man that did that," said Wallace, kindly. "There ain't no one knows. It might have been Louisiana, but if it was, he's been gone these nineteen years and you'll never find him." Solange smiled a little sadly and grimly. "We Basques are queer people," she said. "We are very old. Perhaps that is why we feel things that others do not feel. It is not like the second sight I have heard that some possess. Yet it is in me here." She laid her hand on her breast. "I feel that I will find that man--and the mine, but not so strongly. It is what you call a--a hunch, is it not?" Wallace shook his head dubiously, but Solange had raised her eyes and as long as he could see them he felt unable to question anything she said. "And it is said that a murderer always returns, sooner or later, to the scene of his crime, monsieur. I will be there when he comes back." "But," said Mrs. Wallace, gently, "it is not necessary for you to go yourself. Indeed, you can't do it, my dear!" "Why not, madame?" "Why--why---- But, mad'mo'selle, you must realize that a young girl like you can't wander these mountains alone--or with a set of young scamps like these boys. They're good boys, and they wouldn't hurt you, but people would talk." Solange only shrugged her shoulders. "Talk! Madame, I am not afraid of talk." "But, my dear, you are too lovely--too---- You must understand that you can't do it." "It'd sure be dangerous," said Wallace, emphatically. "We couldn't allow it, nohow. Even my son here--I wouldn't let you go with him, and he's a good boy as they go. And there's others you might meet in the hills." Solange nodded. "I understand, monsieur. But I am not afraid. Besides, am I not to meet my husband on this Shoestring Canyon where we must first go?" Simultaneously they turned on her. "Your _husband_!" It was a cry of astonishment from the older people and one of mingled surprise and shock from the boys. Solange smiled and nodded. "Yes," she said. "Monsieur de Launay, whom you rescued from the jail. He is my husband and it is all quite proper." "It ain't proper nohow," muttered Sucatash. "That bum is her husband, Dave!" "I don't get this, quite," said Wallace. Then Solange explained, telling them of the strange bargain she had made with De Launay and something of his history. The effect of the story was to leave them more doubtful than ever, but when Wallace tried to point out that she would be taking a very long chance to trust herself to a man of De Launay's character and reputation, she only spread her hands and laughed, declaring that she had no fear of him. He had been a soldier and a gentleman, whatever he was now. Wallace gave it up, but he had a remedy for the situation, at least in part.