"This is a gay and lively beginning for a hermit," she thought, as she made her way around the house, "and I don't see how on earth I am ever going to get through that window again. There is nothing to stand on. I did not expect to go back until they were all up." But when she reached the window there was a stout wooden stool placed below it. "Martin did that," she thought, "while I was at my breakfast. He knew I must have come through the window, and might want to go back that way. Oh dear!" she sighed. "But I am sure I can't help it." And so, mounting from the stool to the window-sill, she entered her room. Having given his promise, Martin turned his back upon the sombre young man, who, with folded arms and clouded brow, was stalking towards the tents at the other end of the camp. "If I look at him," said Martin, "it may be that I could not keep my promise." It was about half an hour afterwards, when Martin, still excited and still pale, was getting ready for the general breakfast, forgetting entirely that he was a hermit, and that some of the other hermits might have peculiar ideas about their morning meal, that Phil Matlack arrived on the scene. Martin was very much engrossed in his own thoughts, but he could not repress an inquiring interest in his companion. "Well," said he, "did you bounce him?" Matlack made no answer, but began to cut out the top of a tin can. "I say," repeated Martin, "did you bounce him, or did he go without it?" Without turning towards the younger man, Matlack remarked: "I was mistaken. That ain't fat; it's muscle." "You don't mean to say," exclaimed Martin, in astonishment, "that he bounced you out of that camp!" "I don't mean to say nothin'," was the reply, "except what I do say; and what I say is that that ain't fat; it's muscle. When I make a mistake I don't mind standin' up and sayin' so." Martin could not understand the situation. He knew Matlack to be a man of great courage and strength, and one who, if he should engage in a personal conflict, would not give up until he had done his very best. But the guide's appearance gave no signs of any struggle. His clothes were in their usual order, and his countenance was quiet and composed. "Look here," cried Martin, "how did you find out all that about the bishop?" Matlack turned on him with a grim smile. "Didn't you tell me that day you was talkin' to me about the boat that he was a tough sort of a fellow?" "Yes, I did," said the other. "Well," said Matlack, "how did you find that out?" Martin laughed. "I shouldn't wonder," he said, "if we were about square. Well, if you will tell me how you found it out, I will tell you how I did." "Go ahead," said the other.