Adam, rising abreast of the stone wall he was building, fixed his piercing eyes upon this man. Mrs. Virey stood a little to one side, but not out of range of Adam’s gaze. Did a mocking light show in her shadowy eyes? The doubt, the curiosity in her expression must have related to Adam. That slight, subtle something about her revealed to Adam the inevitableness of disappointment in store for him if he still entertained any hopes of amenable relations with Virey. “We all have to be excused sometimes,” said Adam, deliberately. “Now I had to excuse you on the score of ignorance of the desert. You chose this place as a camp. It happens to be the most dangerous spot I ever saw. Any moment a stone may roll down that slope to kill you. Any moment the whole avalanche may start. That slope is an avalanche.” “It’s my business where I camp,” rejoined Virey. “Were you aware of the danger here?” “I am indifferent to danger.” “But you are not alone. You have a woman with you.” Manifestly, Virey had been speaking without weighing words and looking at Adam without really seeing him. The brooding shade passed out of his eyes, and in its place grew a light of interest that leaped to the crystal-cold clearness of a lens. “You’re a prospector,” he asserted. “No. I pan a little gold dust once in a while for fun, because I happen across it.” “You’re no miner, then--nor hunter, nor teamster.” “I’ve been a little of all you name, but I can’t be called any one of them.” “You might be one of the robbers that infest these hills.” “I might be, only I’m not,” declared Adam, dryly. The fire in his depths stirred restlessly, but he kept a cool, smothering control over it. He felt disposed to be lenient and kind toward this unfortunate man. If only the woman had not stood there with that half-veiled mocking shadow of doubt in her eyes! “You’re an educated man!” ejaculated Virey, incredulously. “I might claim to be specially educated in the ways of the desert.” “And the ways of women, are _they_ mysteries to you?” queried Virey, with scorn. His interrogation seemed like a bitter doubt flung out of an immeasurable depth of passion. “I confess that they are,” replied Adam. “I’ve lived a lonely life. Few women have crossed my trail.” “You don’t realize your good fortune--if you tell the truth.” “I would not lie to any man,” returned Adam, bluntly. “Bah! Men are all liars, and women make them so.... You’re hanging round my camp, making a bluff of work.” “I deny that. Heaving these stones is work. _You_ lift a few of them in this hot sun.... And my packing you on my back for ten miles over the floor of Death Valley--was that a bluff?” “You saved my life!” exclaimed the man, stung to passion. There seemed to be contending tides within him--a fight of old habits of thought, fineness of feeling, against an all-absorbing and dominating malignancy. “Man, I can’t thank you for that.... You’ve done me no service.”