"You are amazed at the free way I speak of death. The girls you know, in the city, don't even know the word. They don't know what it means. They don't understand the sudden end of the light--the darkness--the cold--the awful fear that it is! It is no companion of theirs, down in the city. Perhaps they see it once in a while--but it isn't in their homes and in the air and on the trails, like it is here. It's a reality here, something to fight against every hour of every day. There are just three things to do in the mountains--to live and love and hate. There's no softness. There's no middle ground." She smiled grimly. "Let them live up here with me--those girls you know--and they'd understand what a reality Death is. They'd know it was something to think about and fight against. Self-preservation is an instinct that can be forgotten when you have a policeman at every corner. But it is ever present here. "I've lived with death, and I've heard of it, and I've seen it all my life. If there hadn't been any other way, I would have seen it in the dramas of the wild creatures that go on around me all the time. You'll get down to cases here, Bruce--or else you'll run away. These men said they'd do worse things to me than kill me--and I didn't dare take the risk. "But once or twice I was able to get word to old Elmira--the only ally I had left. She was of the true breed, Bruce. You'll call her a hag, but she's a woman to be reckoned with. She could hate too--worse than a she-rattlesnake hates the man that killed her mate--and hating is all that's kept her alive. You shrink when I say the word. Maybe you won't shrink when I'm done. Hating is a thing that gentlefolk don't do--but gentlefolk don't live up here. It isn't a land of gentleness. Up here there are just men and women, just male and female. "This old woman tried to get in communication with every stranger that visited the hills. You see, Bruce, she couldn't write herself. And the one time I managed to get a written message down to her, telling her to give it to the first stranger to mail--one of my enemies got it away from her. I expected to die that night. I wasn't going to be alive when the clan came. The only reason I didn't was because Simon--the greatest of them all and the one I hate the most--kept his clan from coming. He had his own reasons. "From then on she had to depend on word of mouth. Some of the men promised to send letters to Newton Duncan--but there was more than one Newton Duncan--as you say--and possibly if the letters were sent they went astray. But at last--just a few weeks ago--she found a man that knew you. And it is your story from now on." They were still a little while. Bruce arose and threw more wood on the fire. "It's only the beginning," he said. "And you want me to tell you all?" she asked hesitantly. "Of course. Why did I come here?"