For the instant he was frightened. It occurred to him, when the words had gone too far to recall, that he should have been gentler. He might have prepared the girl, in some degree, for the shock. He didn’t want her to faint. But if he had expected any hysteria or excitement he was doomed to a fresh surprise. She opened her eyes; and it seemed to Hugh that she closed her lips—in a fine, hard line—just for an instant. “Dead?” she repeated slowly. “Killed—or did he just die?” “He was killed,” Hugh answered in the straightforward way of one on a witness stand. “I found him dead in his tent. He’d been shot. The black dog was shot too.” “And who are you?” Hugh wasn’t exactly accustomed to this straight-out sort of questioning, but he mustered his faculties and made his answers. “Gaylord—Hugh Gaylord,” he said simply. “And if you want me to I’ll tell you all I know of this affair.” “Perhaps that would be the best plan,” she agreed. “I came over to the camp—to borrow something. I was with another chap—an Indian, Pete. We found this poor beggar dead. Pete started with him into the settlements to-day. It’s a wonder you didn’t meet him on the trail.” “He probably took the other fork, heading toward Seven Mile. I came up from Horse Creek.” As Hugh didn’t know the two places apart, or what they represented, this information did not clear matters up for him to any great extent. “He left me here,” Hugh went on, “and as I didn’t have anything in particular to do—I took care of the sheep—until you could hire a regular herder.” The girl looked puzzled but made no immediate reply. “And you’re not an experienced herder?” “No. I’ve never worked—I’ve never worked at it before.” “Then how did you know what to do?” “I didn’t know. I let ’em do what they wanted to, and followed along.” Then the girl laughed,—for the first time. It was a tinkling, musical sound, inexpressibly girlish, and Hugh laughed boyishly himself. It was their first real moment of understanding; and it seemed to Hugh that a new impulse, a curious sense of impending events, a new stir and vitality had been born in the air. He might have wondered at the freshness and happiness in his own laugh, as much as in hers. It was an hour of miracles. “You couldn’t have done better—and I needn’t tell you that you’ve probably saved me—and my father—hundreds of dollars. The coyotes and the wolves would have been busy all night and to-day. I’d be glad enough to pay you well for this time you’ve spent—and give you a steady job if you want it.” She spoke perfectly naturally, and Hugh knew that his torn and soiled clothes and his unshaven face had done their work. Obviously she never guessed his true position. He wondered how she explained his presence in the hills and his reasons for staying with the sheep.