Pierce was more than willing to oblige, and he began his recital at the time of his first meeting with Joe McCaskey on the beach at Dyea. While he talked the girl listened with that peculiar open-eyed meditative gravity he had noted upon their former meeting. When he had finished she cried, breathlessly: "Why, it's as exciting as a book!" "You think so? I don't. If I were only a clever book character I'd execute some dramatic coup and confound my enemies--book people always do. But my mind is a blank, my ingenuity is at a complete standstill. I feel perfectly foolish and impotent. To save me, I can't understand how that gold got where it was, for the cashier's cage is made of wire and the door has a spring-lock. I heard it snap back of me when I followed the Count outside. I had an insane idea that his nose would stretch if I pulled it and I believe yet it would. Well, I've spent one night in the dungeon and I'm not cut out to enjoy that mode of life. All I can think about is the Prisoner of Chillon and the Man in the Iron Mask and other distressing instances of the law's injustice. I feel as if I'd grown a gray beard in the last twelve hours. Do I look much older than when we met?" The girl shook her head. "It's tremendously dramatic. Think what a story it will make when it's over and when you look back on it." "Do you feel that way, too?" Pierce inquired, curiously. "As if everything is an adventure? I used to. I used to stand outside of myself and look on, but now--I'm on the inside, looking out. I suppose it's the effect of the gray beard. Experience comes fast in this country. To one thing I've made up my mind, however; when I get out of this scrape, if I ever do, I'm going away up into the hills where the wind can blow me clean, and stay there." "It's a perfect shame!" the girl said, indignantly. "I shall tell father to fix it. He fixes everything I ask him to. He's wonderful, as you probably know." "Inasmuch as I haven't the faintest idea who he is--" "Why, he's Colonel Cavendish! I'm Josephine Cavendish. I thought everybody knew me." Pierce could not restrain a start of surprise. Very humbly he inquired: "Now that you understand who I am and what I'm charged with, do you want to--know me; be friends with me?" "We ARE friends," Miss Cavendish warmly declared. "That's not something that may happen; it has happened. I'm peculiar about such matters; I have my own way of looking at them. And now that we're friends we're going to be friends throughout and I'm going to help you. Come along and meet mother." "I--don't know how far my parole extends," Pierce ventured, doubtfully. "Nonsense! There's only one authority around here. Father thinks he's it, but he isn't. I am. You're my prisoner now. Give me your word you won't try to escape--" "Escape!" Pierce smiled broadly. "I don't much care if I never get out. Prisons aren't half as bad as they're pictured." "Then come!" CHAPTER XXV