The Yale expositor., 1912-07-04

college man. Say that he had gradu.
ated at twenty-one or twenty-five, he
would be twenty-eight or twenty-nine
years old now, but II so, why that
white hair? Perhaps, though, the
book did not belong to the man of the
cabin.
She turned to other books on the
shelf, Many of them were technical
books, which she had sufficient gen.
eral culture to realize could be only
available to man highly educated,
and a special student of mines and
mining-a mining engineer, she de-
cided, with glance at those instru-
ments and appliances of a scientific
character plainly, but of whose actual
use she was ignorant.
A rapid inspection of the other
books confirmed her in the conclusion
that the man Of the mountains was
indeed the owner of the collection.
There were a few we'll worn volumes
of poetry and essays, Shakespeare, a
Bible, Bacon, Marcus Aurelius, Epicte-
tus, Keats, small dictionary, a COM
pendious encyclopedia, just the books,
she thought, smiling at her conceit,
| that man of education and culture
would want to have upon a desert is
land where his supply of literature
would be limited.
The old ones were autographed as
the first book she had looked in; 9TH
ers, newer additions to the little IL
brary. if she could judge their condi-
ton, were unsigned.
Into the corner cupboard and the
drawers. OF course, she did not look.
There was nothing else in the room
to attract her attention, save some
piles of manuscript neatly arranged
on one of the shelves, each one cover
ed with Il square of board and kept
in place by pieces of gfistening quartz.
There were four of these piles and an
other half the size of the first four
on the table. These, of course, she did
not examine, further than to note that
the writing was in the same bold,
free hand as the signature in the
books. If she had been an expert she
might have deduced much from the
writing; as it was, she fancied it was
strong, direct, manly.
Having completed her inspection OF
this room, she opened the door and
went into the other. II was smaller
and less inviting. 1t had only one
window, and door opened outside.
There was cook stove here, and
shelves with cooking utensils and
graniteware, and more rude box re-
ceptacIes on the walls which were fill
ed with bountiful and well selected
store of canned goods and provisions
Of various kinds. This was evident
ly the kitchen, supply room, china
closet She saw no sign Of bed in
it, and wondered where and how the
man had spent the night.
BY rights, her mind should have
been filled with her uncle and his
party, and in their alarm she should
have shared, but she was so extremely
comfortable, except for her foot, which
did not greatly trouble her so long as
she kept it quiet, that she felt GER
tain degree of contentment, not to say
happiness. The adventure was so ro-
mantle and thrilling-save for those
awful moments in the pool-especially
to the soul of a conventional woman
who had been brought up in the most
humdrum and stereotyped fashion of
the earth's ways, and with never an
opportunity for the development of
the spirit of romance which all of us
exhibited some time in our life, and
which, thank God, some OF us never
lose, that she found herself revealing
in ii.
She lost herself in pleasing magma
tons of tales Of her adventures that
she could tell when she got back to
her uncle, and when she got further
back to staid old philadelphia. How
shocked everybody would be with 1t
all there. OF course, she resolved
that she would never mention one ep
isolde of that terrible day, and she hal
somehow absolute confidence that this
man, in spite of his grim, gruff taci
turnity, who had shown himself so ex-
ceedingly considerate of her feelings,
would never mention il either.
She had so much food for thought
ludJ UOI even III TIE ldlt VI
the long day could she force her mind
TO the printed pages of the book she
had taken at random from the shelf
which lay open before her, where she
sat in the sun, her head covered by an
old "Stetson" that she had ventured
to appropriate. She had dragged a
bear skin out on the rocks in the sun
and sat curled UP on IL half reclining
against boulder watching the trail,
the Winchester by her side. She had
eaten so late a breakfast that she had
made a rather frugal lunch out of
whatever had taken her fancy in the
store room, and she was waiting most
anxiously now for the return of the
man.
The season was late and the sun
sank behind the peaks quite early in
the afternoon, and it grew dark and
chill long before the shadows fell upon
the dwellers of the lowlands.
Enid drew the bear skin around her
and waited with an ever-growing APP