The young man spoke in a perfectly careless tone, to reassure his companion; but Millicent noticed that he occasionally looked behind him as the riders gained on them. Finally, as the men drew near, Millicent saw the rider nearest her shift the gun from his shoulder and rest it across the saddle-bow, as if preparing to take aim. Hal, who had seen the action, instantly called to Millicent to catch the reins, and held up both his hands. By this time the men were close upon them, and the one who had shifted his weapon called out in a rough voice,-- "All right, boss; we know you ain’t got no money, and we don’t want your life to-day." His companion laughed aloud, and striking spurs to their horses, they galloped down the high-road. Hal laughed as heartily as the supposed highwayman, saying,-- "Well, that’s a greaser’s idea of a joke, I suppose. Adventure number one has befallen us with few bad consequences. I don’t think you were half as frightened as you were the other day by the snakes." "No, I fancy I was not. I should not much mind being killed to-day." This with a little, bitter laugh. "And why? Let us wait till after luncheon. Barbara has put up a capital venison pasty,--a real English one, out of the Queen’s own receipt book." "Well, we will wait for the pie, to please you." The drive was accomplished with the usual desultory chit-chat, Hal doing rather more than his share of the joking. As they passed the little hovel, the wild children ran out, as they had upon the day when they had visited the camp in the woods; and soon the gray bridge and the little island were reached. The baskets were unpacked and the luncheon spread upon the grass by the time the guests arrived. Among them were O’Neil, Hartley, Ferrara, and Mrs. Shallop, who had come over by the train; with a party of people from the village, in whom Millicent had never taken much interest. Galbraith never left Millicent’s side; sparing her the necessity of talking by keeping up an incessant stream of conversation which she heard vaguely, and of which she understood not one word. In after days the import of all the young man said came back to her; and she remembered the quaint Indian legends, the reminiscences of life on the two edges of the continent, with which Maurice Galbraith kept the others of the party from her side. She realized what he was doing, and knew that he only, in all the company, understood and sympathized with her half-dazed mood; and for his efforts he received more than one little smile, sadder than tears. This is one of the stories which the lawyer told her:--