and there through the
dappled woods. They were empty of life save for the chipmunk sitting on
its hind legs and watching her light approach. A breeze swept across
the river, caught her filmy skirts, and blew them about her ankles. She
frowned, brushing down the wind-swept draperies with that instinct for
modesty all women share. Shy and supple, elastic-heeled, in that
diaphanous half light her slim long body might have been taken for that
of a wood nymph had there been eyes to follow her through the umbrageous
glade.

Of human eyes there were none. She reached her flat rock and sank upon
its moss ungreeted. Her disappointment was keen, even though reason had
told her he dared not show himself here after adding a second crime to
the first, and this time against her friend, the man who had offered to
stand by him in his trouble. An instinct deeper than logic--some sure
understanding of the man's reckless courage--had made her feel certain
that he would be on the spot.

Mingled with her disappointment was a sharp sense of shame. He had told
her to come here and wait for him, as if she had been a country
milk-maid--and here she was meekly waiting. Could degradation take her
lower than this, that she should slip out alone to keep an assignation
with a thief and a liar who had not taken the trouble to come? At any
rate, she was spared one humiliation. He would never know she had gone
to meet him.

CHAPTER X

OLD FRIENDS

Into the depths of her scorching self-contempt came his blithe
"Good-morning, neighbor."

Her heart leaped, but before she looked around Moya made sure no tales
could be read in her face. Her eyes met his with quiet scorn.

"I was wondering if you would dare come." The young woman's voice came
cool and aloof as the splash of a mountain rivulet.

"Why shouldn't I come, since I wanted to?"

"You can ask me that--now."

Her manner told him that judgment had been passed, but it did not shake
the cheerful good humor of the man.

"I reckon I can."

"Of course you can. I might have known you could. You will probably have
the effrontery to deny that you are the man who robbed Captain Kilmeny."

"Did he say I was the man?" There was amusement and a touch of interest
in his voice.

"He didn't deny it. I knew it must be you. I told him everything--how
you found out from me that he was going to Gunnison with the money and
hurried away to rob him of it. Because you are his cousin he wouldn't
ac