"What's your friend's name?" "Mrs. Adams." "Are you a missis, too?" She hesitated. This was impertinent, but then she herself was an intrusive guest. "No," she answered, "I am not married." "Where are you from?" "New York City." "You're a long way from home." "Yes, I'm feeling that this minute." She drew the coverlet a little closer to her chin. He quickly read this sign. "You needn't be afraid of me." "I'm not." "Yes, you are. You're both all of a tremble and white as two sheep--" "It isn't that," wailed the girl; "but I've twisted my foot again." Her moan of pain broke the spell that bound Peggy. "Would you leave, please, for a moment?" she called to the owner of the cabin. "I've got to get up and doctor my patient." "Sure!" he exclaimed, moving toward the door. "If I can do anything let me know." As soon as her patient's aching foot was eased Peggy opened the door and peeped out. A faint flare of yellow had come into the east, and beside the fire, rolled in his blanket, the ranger was sleeping. Frost covered everything and the air was keen. "He's out there on the cold ground--with only one blanket." "What a shame! Tell him to come inside--I'm not afraid of him." "Neither am I--but I don't believe he'll come. It's 'most morning, anyway--perhaps I'd better not disturb him." "Take one of these quilts to him--that will help some." Mrs. Adams lifted one of the coverlets and, stealing softly up, was spreading it over the sleeper when he woke with a start, a wild glare of alarm in his eyes. "Oh, it's you!" he said in relief. Then he added, as he felt the extra cover: "That's mighty white of you. Sure you don't need it?" "We can spare it. But won't you come inside? I'm sorry we drove you out of your cabin." "That's all right. I'm used to this. Good night. I'm just about dead for sleep." Thus dismissed, Peggy went back and lay down beside Alice. "He says he's quite comfortable," she remarked, "and I hope he is, but he doesn't look it." When she woke again it was broad daylight and Alice was turning restlessly on her hard bed. In the blaze of the sun all the mystery of the night vanished. The incident of the return of the ranger to his cabin was as natural as the coming of dawn. "He probably makes regular trips through here," said Mrs. Adams. But the wounded girl silently differed, for she had read in the man's eyes and voice a great deal more than belonged to the commonplace character of a forest-ranger. That first vision of his face burned deep. She had seen on the wall of the station at "the road" the description of a train-robber which tallied closely with this man's general appearance, and the conviction that she was living in the hidden hut of an outlaw grew into a certainty. "I must not let him suspect my discovery," she thought. Mrs. Adams (who had not read the placard) treated the young fellow as if he were one of the forest wardens, manifesting complete confidence in him.