Helen laughed. "A genuine case of Greek meeting Greek," she said. "Stampa is an excellent guide, I am sure; but Mr. Bower does really know these mountains. I suppose anyone is liable to err in forecasting Alpine weather." "That is nothing. If it were you or I, Stampa would dismiss the point with a grin. You heard how he chaffed Barth, yet trusted him with the lead? No. These two have an old feud to settle. You will hear more of it." "A feud! Mr. Bower declared to me that Stampa was absolutely unknown to him." "It isn't necessary to know a man before you hate him. I can give you a heap of historic examples. For instance, who has a good word to say for Ananias?" The girl understood that he meant to parry her question with a quip. The cross purposes so much in evidence all day were baffling and mysterious to its close. "My own opinion is that both you and Stampa have taken an unreasonable dislike to Mr. Bower," she said determinedly. The words were out before she quite realized their import. She flushed a little. Spencer was gazing down into the gorge of the Orlegna. The brawling torrent chimed with his own mood; but his set face gave no token of the storm within. He only said quietly, "How good it must be to have you as a friend!" "I have no reason to feel other than friendly to Mr. Bower," she protested hotly. "It was the rarest good fortune for me that he came to Maloja. I met him once in London, and a second time, by accident, during my journey to Switzerland. Yet, widely known as he is in society, he was sufficiently large minded to disregard the sneers and innuendoes of some of those horrid women in the hotel. He has gone out of his way to show me every kindness. Why should I not repay it by speaking well of him?" "I shall lay my head on the nearest tree stump, and you can smite me with your ax, good and hard," said Spencer. She laughed angrily. "I don't know what evil influence is possessing us," she cried. "Everything is awry. Even the sun refuses to shine. Here am I storming at one to whom I owe my life----" "No," he broke in decisively. "Don't put it that way, because the whole credit of the relief expedition is due to Stampa. Say, Miss Wynton, may I square my small services by asking a favor?" "Oh, yes, indeed." "Well, then, if it lies in your power, keep Stampa and Bower apart. In any event, don't intervene in their quarrel." "So you are quite serious in your belief that there is a quarrel?" The American saw again in his mind's eye the scene in the crevasse when Bower had raised his ax to strike. "Quite serious," he replied, and the gravity in his voice was so marked that Helen placed a contrite hand on his arm for an instant. "Please, I am sorry if I was rude to you just now," she said. "I have had a long day, and my nerves are worn to a fine edge. I used to flatter myself that I hadn't any nerves; but they have come to the surface here. It must be the thin air." "Then it is a bad place for an American."