“Get water--bathe him,” said Adam. “Have you ammonia or whisky?” And while he laboriously got to his knees the woman ran into the shack. He rose, feeling giddy and weak. All his muscles seemed beaten and bruised, and his heart pained. Soon the woman came hurrying out, with basin and towel and a little black satchel that evidently contained medicines. Adam helped her work over her husband, but, though they revived him, they could not bring him back to intelligent consciousness. “Help me carry him in,” said Adam. Inside the little shack it was almost too dark to see plainly. “Have you a light?” he added. “No,” she replied. “I’ll fetch a candle. You watch over him while I move my camp up here. You might change his shirt, if he’s got another. I’ll be back right away, and I’ll start a fire--get some supper for us.” * * * * * By the time Adam had packed and moved his effects darkness had settled down between the slopes of the mountains. After he had unpacked near the shack, his first move was to light a candle and take it to the door. “Here’s a light, ma’am,” he called. She glided silently out of the gloom, her garments gleaming ghostlike and her white face with its luminous eyes, dark and strange as midnight, looking like a woman’s face in tragic dreams. As she took the candle her hand touched Adam’s. “Thank you,” she said. “Please don’t call me ma’am. My name is Magdalene Virey.” “I’ll try to remember.... Has your husband come to yet?” “No. He seems to have fallen into a stupor. Won’t you look at him?” Adam followed her inside and saw that she marked his lofty height. The shack had not been built for anyone of his stature. “How tall you are!” she murmured. The candle did not throw a bright light, yet by its aid Adam made out the features of the man whose life he had saved. It seemed to Adam to be the face of a Lucifer whose fiendish passions were now restrained by sleep. Whoever this man was, he had suffered a broken heart and ruined life. “He’s asleep,” said Adam. “That’s not a trance or stupor. He’s worn out. I believe it’d be better not to wake him.” “You think so?” she replied, with quick relief. “I’m not sure. Perhaps if you watch him awhile you can tell.... I’ll get some supper and call you.” * * * * * Adam’s habitual dexterity over camp tasks failed him this evening. Presently, however, the supper was ready, and he threw brush on the fire to make a light. “Mrs. Virey,” he called at the door, “come and eat now.”