“Andy is a master mountaineer and woodsman. It is born in him; he inherited it from his Alps-climbing ancestors. He will be able to supply you with food while you are waiting for me to return. But listen carefully: As soon as he comes, have him show you how to make rabbit snares and pitfalls and deadfalls, so that you will be able to get game if he becomes unable to do it for you. You two get to work at once gathering all the nuts and acorns you can--and you’d better be working at it before he comes. Stow them away. Have Andy show you how to pulverize the acorns and make Indian bread of the flour. Gather huckleberries--all you can--I saw a patch of them up the river from where we crossed to-day. The berries will be ripe now. Then you’ll find nuts in the cones of the piñon pines. Andy has a little fishing tackle. There should be mountain trout in the river. If Indians could subsist in this valley without drawing upon civilization for supplies, trust Andy to do it. But the important point is that you must make him teach you all that he knows about foraging in the wilderness before he--before he becomes unable to help you. For that may happen.” “You are not making yourself clear, Doctor,” Charmian told him. “Why is all this necessary? Why can’t we all go out together? In other words, if Andy can get here to me why can’t he make it out to Shirttail Henry’s or Mosquito? And why can’t Mary Temple come here with Andy, if she is able to go with you over the mountains?” “Mary deceived you, with my knowledge,” confessed Shonto. “Her ankle isn’t sprained. She has a broken rib. She could never crawl through that chaparral. It would break her in two, almost. But she can walk in an erect position, after a fashion, with me to help her. Anyway, there’s nothing else to be done; we’ll have to try it. And Andy--” “Why did Mary Temple tell me she had a sprained ankle when she had broken her rib?” demanded Charmian. “She wanted to force you and me into the wilderness together,” explained Shonto, without a sign of contrition. “That’s what I believe now. I know she doesn’t approve of Andy Jerome as a husband for you. And she has hinted that she wants you to marry me. That’s frank enough, isn’t it? But she told me that she was afraid of putting a stop to your expedition if she confessed to a broken rib. She knew that she could walk with her rib broken--see?--and thought that you would insist on taking her back and spoiling the fun. But if she pleaded a sprained ankle, you would imagine that she couldn’t walk one way or the other, and it would be just as well to leave her there until she could walk again, while you went on with your hunt for the valley. It worked out to her satisfaction, as you see.” “And now you think she deliberately planned to get you and me to continue the trip together?”