A half hour passed and the man began to grow restless. He had, of course, no idea whatever of the length of time he had been in the cabin, and he knew that he must be thinking of an immediate escape. In desperation, he tried to get out of bed, but the task was beyond his power. At that a terrible feeling of hopelessness assailed him. His only chance was to reach the valley where he had little fear of capture; but wounded, as he was, that seemed out of the question, and he saw himself caught like a rat in a trap. In an access of rage at the situation in which he was placed he made another effort to raise himself up on his elbow and peer through the window at the Sierras. The noise that he made, slight though it was, awoke the Girl. In an instant she was at his bedside drawing the curtain over the window. “What you thinkin’ of?” she asked “At any moment--jest as soon as the trail can be cleared--there’ll be someone of the boys up here to see how I’ve pulled through. They mustn’t see you....” Forcibly, but with loving tenderness, she put him back among his pillows and seated herself by the bed. An awkward silence followed. For now that the man was in his right senses it was borne in upon her that he might remember that she had fed him, given him drink and fondled him. It was a situation embarrassing to both. Neither knew just what to say or how to begin. At length, the voice from the bed spoke: “How long have I been here?” “Three days.” “And you have nursed me all that--” “You mustn’t talk,” warned the girl. “It’s dangerous in more ways than one. But if you keep still no one’ll suspect that you’re here.” “But I must know what happened,” he insisted with increasing excitement. “I remember nothing after I came down the ladder. The Sheriff--Rance--what’s become...?” The Girl chided him with gentle authority. “You keep perfectly still--you mustn’t say nothin’ ’til you’ve rested. Everythin’s all right an’ you needn’t worry a bit.” But then seeing that he chafed at this, she added: “Well, then, I’ll tell you all there is to know.” And then followed an account of the happenings of that night. It was not a thoroughly truthful tale, for in her narrative she told him only what she thought was necessary and good for him to know, keeping the rest to herself. And when she had related all that there was to tell she insisted upon his going to sleep again, giving him no opportunity whatsoever to speak, since she left his bedside after drawing the curtains.