' the
ocean, an' so he had to like me. Thet-thar argyment goes fer you-all,
too, mum. So, I 'low ye gotter fergive me--specially kase yer dawg
begun hit."

Josephine relaxed with a ripple of laughter. The mountaineer both
interested and pleased her. To her inevitable interest in one whom she
had helped to save from death, there was now added a personal
attraction. She perceived, with astonishment, that this was by no
means the hulking brute she had deemed him when her pet had suffered
at his hands. The dog's attitude toward him impressed her deeply.
Moreover, she saw that he was intelligent, as well as naive. She
perceived that he had humor and quickness of feeling. His
responsiveness to the dog's advances pleased her. She was greedy of
experience and knowledge, easily bored by familiar things, likely to
be vastly interested, for a brief season, in the new and strange. She
realized that here, ready to her hand, was a type wholly novel. She
felt that it was her prerogative to understand something of the nature
of this singular being thus cast at her feet by fate. Certainly, it
would be absurd to cherish any rancor. As he had said, the dog's
action sufficed. Besides, she must be friendly if she would learn
concerning this personality. Every reason justified inclination. She
rebelled no longer. Her blue eyes gleamed with genuine kindliness, as
she spoke:

"I'll take Chubbie's word for it." Her voice became authoritative.
"Now, if you feel equal to standing up, we'll have this rain-coat on
you, and then run you down to the yacht. We'll attend to landing you
somewhere after you've rested and had something to eat."

Already Josephine's brain was busy, scheming to her own ends, but of
this she gave no hint.

Zeke pushed away the reluctant dog, and rose up stiffly. The
stimulation of the brandy stood him in good stead.

"I 'low I'm havin' a right-smart lot of experience," he remarked,
chuckling. "What with steam-cars, an' boats, an' wrecks, an' now one
o' them ornery devil-wagons. I hain't a-feared none," he added,
musingly, "but I hain't a-pinin' neither. I reckon I kin stand
anythin' what gals an' a dog kin. I'm plumb nervous or hungry--I don't
know which. Both, like's not!"

He rejected the offer of support, and walked firmly enough to the
machine, which he eyed distrustfully. Florence took the rear seat, and
Zeke established himself beside Josephine, the dog between his feet.
After the first few minutes, he found h