Her eyes were open. He could see them, even though he stood slightly behind her. She moved her head, lifted it and gazed around the room, seemingly bewildered at what she saw. Then she twisted her body around; saw her bare feet, and quickly drew an end of the bunk blanket over them. And then she saw Lawler. Her eyes opened wide, filling with satisfaction, and she sat up, holding one hand to her throat, tight against the flesh, covering it with the other. "Oh!" she said, thinly; "I--I got here, didn't I? But I didn't expect to find you here!" CHAPTER XIX DEATH AT A DOOR Lawler smiled. "Then I reckon we're both surprised, ma'am," he said. "I certainly wasn't expecting the norther to bring you. You had a mighty narrow squeeze. You were pretty near all in when I opened the door and saw you." The girl drew a long, quavering breath and leaned back against the wall of the bunk, closing her eyes. Her hair had fallen about her shoulders, showing the white throat through the damp, glistening folds; and when she again opened her eyes, they were big and luminous--and brown, Lawler took note of that, for the glare from the lamp was directly upon them. Renewed life--animation--certainly beautified her. While Lawler had been working with her to restore her suspended vitality he had felt no emotion beyond an eagerness to restore her to consciousness. Now he was vibrant with sympathy, with pity, and with wonder. Why had she come here? It was quite evident that she had come intentionally, for her words: "I got here, didn't I?" seemed to be proof of that. Also, she had not anticipated finding him at the cabin, for she had said so in as many words. She gathered the blanket closer around her, noting that her feet were wrapped in it and that one end of it covered her throat. Lawler saw the blushes come and go in her face as she worked with the blanket, and he secretly applauded her modesty. When she had arranged the blanket she looked straight at him. She studied his face long before she spoke, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction when he saw her lips form a faint, half-smile. She had decided she was not afraid of him. She was embarrassed, but not to the point of prudishness. Her gaze was direct, frankly grateful. But there was something else in her eyes--a vague uneasiness, curiosity, repressed eagerness. She glanced swiftly around the interior of the cabin, and into the other bunks. And when she saw Lawler watching her keenly she blushed. And now, as she dropped her gaze, he saw her start as her eyes rested on the tangled ropes that Lawler had torn from the two fence cutters when he had released them after he had carried her into the cabin. The ropes were lying on the floor where he had thrown them in his haste. "Has--has anything happened?" she asked, looking swiftly at him, blushing again. "Plenty," he said; "you came." "I--I mean--that is, has anything else happened?" she added. She seemed to hold her breath, for his answer.