The mountaineer stretched out his injured hand, and examined it for so long a time without speaking that it seemed as though he would not answer at all. The wound was healing admirably now; he had made shift to shoot, with Kerry's shoulder for a rest, and their larder was stocked with game once more. When he at last raised his head and looked across the fire, his black eyes were such wells of misery as made the other catch his breath. Upon the silence fell his big, serious voice, as solemn and sonorous as a church-bell: “You ast me did I ever love an' trust a woman like that. I did--an' she failed me. I ain't gwine to call you fool fer sich; you're a town feller, Dan, with smart town ways; mebby your gal would stick to you, even ef you was in trouble; but me--” Kerry made an inarticulate murmur of sympathy. The voice went on. “You say you're goin' home to her with jest your two bare hands?” it inquired. “But why fer? You've found your man. What makes you go back that-a-way?” Kerry's mouth was open, his jaw fallen; he stared through the smoke at his host as though he saw him now for the first time. Kerry belongs to a people who love or hate obviously and openly; that the outlaw should have known him from the first for a police officer, a creature of prey upon his track, and should have treated him as a friend, as a brother, appalled and repelled him. “See here, Dan,” the big man went on, leaning forward; “I knowed what your arrant was the fust minute I clapped eyes on you. You didn't know whether I could shoot with my left hand as well as my right--I didn't choose you should know. I watched fer ye to be tryin' to put handcuffs on me any minute--after you found my right hand was he'pless.” “Lord A'mighty! You could lay me on my back with your left hand, Andy,” Kerry breathed. The big man nodded. “They was plenty of times when I was asleep--or you thort I was. Why didn't ye do it? Where is they? Fetch 'em out.” Unwilling, red with shame, penetrated with a grief and ache he scarce comprehended, Kerry dragged the handcuffs from their hiding-place. The other took them, and thereafter swung them thoughtfully in his strong brown fingers as he talked. “You was goin' away without makin' use o' these?” he asked, gently. Kerry, crimson of face and moist of eye, gulped, frowned, and nodded.