"Wal, if it ain't too bad for a good, plucky crittur like that to die sich a death! Confound them tarnal sink holes! They've been the misfortun' o' many a one. Thank goodness I've saved the feminine." The "feminine's" condition now demanded his attention, as the temporary faintness was passing away, and she showed signs of returning animation. With rare tact and delicacy, the old hunter, regardless of his own fatigue, softly lowered himself and his fair burden to the ground. Then, gently withdrawing his arm from her waist, he drew back a step or two. Taking of his seal-skin cap, he wiped the perspiration from his brow, and, with the gallantry of a true gentleman, waited until she should address him. The young lady he had rescued was no ordinary person. The faintness which had come upon her endured only for a short while. Recovering consciousness, she understood at a glance, not only the nature of the service rendered her, but also the character of the man who had rendered it. "Oh, sir! I'm afraid that you have run a fearful risk. I can hardly tell you how grateful I am." "Wal, miss, it war rayther a toughish struggle while it lasted. But, bless ye, that's nothin' so long as it's turned out all right. If you'd not been the plucky one you air, nothin' I could ha' done would have helped ye. It war your own grit as much as my muscle saved ye from fallin' into that trap." "My horse. Where is he?" "Yur right there, he's gone, poor crittur. I'd ha' liked to saved him, too, for the way he behaved. That dumb crittur had more sense in him than many a human; and it 'ud ha' done me a sight o' good to have pulled him thro'; but it wasn't possible, nohow." "Tell me, sir, where did you come from? I did not see you." "Wal, I war clost by, and seed you ride right on to the danger. It war too late to holler, for that would only ha' made things worse, an' skeared you both; so I said nothin', but jist dropped my rifle, and made track toarst ye. I spied the branch above you, an' speeled up to it. The next war nothin'--only a spell o' twisting an' wrigglin'." He did not tell her that the muscles of his arms were fearfully swollen, and that it demanded all his power of endurance to prevent him groaning at the intense agony he suffered. But the young lady, with a quickness of apprehension, seemed to understand this, too. "Nothing, do you say? Oh! sir, it's another proof of your noble courage. I can never show you enough gratitude. For all that, I feel deeply grateful." Her voice trembled with emotion--tears welled into her eyes. Her brave heart had well endured danger, but could not contemplate, without betraying its emotion, the self-generosity of her preserver. "Wal," said he, in order to change the conversation, which he thought too flattering towards himself, "what do you intend doing, now that your horse is gone?" She wiped the tears from her eyes, and in a firm voice answered him--