iskey. You were quite faint and chilled, you know. We gave you
some."

"Out of--that--black--bottle?"

"Yes."

Another silence.

"I'd like some coffee. I don't think he'd begrudge me that, if he did
save my life."

"I dare say there's some left." Her father at once bestirred himself
and presently brought her some coffee in a tin cup. It was part of Miss
Amy's rapid convalescence, or equally of her debilitated condition,
that she made no comment on the vessel. She lay for some moments looking
curiously around the cabin; she had no doubt it had a worse look in the
daylight, but somehow the firelight brought out a wondrous luxury of
color in the bark floor and thatching. Besides, it was not "smelly," as
she feared it would be; on the contrary the spicy aroma of the woods
was always dominant. She remembered that it was this that always made a
greasy, oily picnic tolerable. She raised herself on her elbow, seeing
which her father continued confidently, "Perhaps, dear, if you sat up
for a few moments you might be strong enough presently to walk down with
me to the wagon. It would save time."

Amy instantly lay down again. "I don't know what you can be thinking of,
papa. After this shock really I don't feel as if I could STAND alone,
much less WALK. But, of course," with pathetic resignation, "if you
and Mr. Waterhouse supported me, perhaps I might crawl a few steps at a
time."

"Nonsense, Amy. Of course, this man Tenbrook will carry you down as he
brought you up. Only I thought,--but there are steps, they're coming
now. No!--only HE."

The sound of crackling in the underbrush was followed by a momentary
darkening of the open door of the cabin. It was the tall figure of the
mountaineer. But he did not even make the pretense of entering; standing
at the door he delivered his news to the interior generally. It was to
the effect that everything was ready, and the two other men were even
then harnessing the horses. Then he drew back into the darkness.

"Papa," said Amy, in a sudden frightened voice, "I've lost my bracelet."

"Haven't you dropped it somewhere there in the bunk?" asked her father.

"No. It's on the floor of the wagon. I remember now it fell off when I
tumbled! And it will be trodden upon and crushed! Couldn't you run down,
ahead of me, and warn them, papa, dear? Mr. Tenbrook will have to go
so slowly with me." She tumbled out of the bunk with singular alacrity,
shook herself and her skirts into instant