from family hindrances as a
young wolf that runs his first season's hunt alone."

She thought how apt a comparison he had made. "So you regard the family
as a hindrance?"

"Oh--no and yes. One can never do quite as he pleases while a family and
its wishes, aims, and loves are concerned. They always hold him down to
some extent. He is an equal hindrance to them. They love each other, and
as a result they have to sacrifice their individual wishes. But the
family keeps man more social, more gregarious, and less selfish. If we
were as free from family love as is the wolf I mentioned, we would be
able to live our lives more completely, and, on the other hand, we would
die in greater numbers. The love of man and woman for each other and
their children lifts humanity out of its serfdom, but it also places
limitations. You ought to know more about that than I, however," he
laughed. "I merely theorize."

"So I noticed," Claire observed. "One can easily gather that you aren't
experienced."

"No. My parents died when I was small. I had to work my way through
school. The accident made it somewhat harder, but I got along." He was
plainly matter of fact.

"Oh!" She exclaimed at his words more forcefully than she had intended.

He smiled a little, comprehendingly. "Yes, it explains a lot, doesn't
it?" He spoke carelessly. "You doubtless can now understand my lack of
social grace."

She thought to deny it, but that seemed foolish. He was silent, and
there seemed little use in talking. Claire knew she understood him well
enough.

CHAPTER V.

THE FACE OF DEATH.

In the days that followed they talked but little. Lawrence had fallen
into the habit of speaking only when she seemed to desire conversation,
and his mind was occupied with planning their escape. If he thought of
her in any other way than merely as his eyes, he never showed it. Though
watchful of her comfort, in every act and word, he was markedly
impersonal.

Following the river, they had progressed steadily north and east over
increasingly higher and rougher ground. The tropical vegetation of
intertwining crimson was now changing to a faint gold. There were days
when they were forced to make long detours over broken ridges to get
around some deep gorge through which the gray-green stream dashed its
foamy way downward. They were well into the mountains, and above them
the higher Andes raised their snowy peaks in forbidding austerity. It
was daily growing