"Please do not think me ungrateful. You have been very good to
me, a stranger. One often thinks afterward of things one might
have done, don't you know? You did the noblest when you
inconvenienced yourself for me. What trouble I have made for
you." She said this so prettily that he came gaily from the
despondency into which her shrewdness, bordering on criticism,
had thrown him. He knew perfectly well that she was questioning
his judgment and presence of mind, and, the more he thought of
it, the more transparent became the absurdity of his action.

"It has been no trouble," he floundered "An adventure like this
is worth no end of--er--inconvenience, as you call it. I'm sure
I must have lost my head completely, and I am ashamed of myself.
How much anxiety I could have saved you had I been possessed of
an ounce of brains!"

"Hush! I will not allow you to say that. You would have me
appear ungrateful when I certainly am not. Ach, how he is
driving! Do you think it dangerous?" she cried, as the hack gave
two or three wild lurches, throwing him into the corner, and the
girl half upon him.

"Not in the least," he gasped, the breath knocked out of his
body. Just the same, he was very much alarmed. It was as dark
as pitch outside and in, and he could not help wondering how near
the edge of the mountain side they were running. A false move of
the flying horses and they might go rolling to the bottom of the
ravine, hundreds of feet below. Still, he must not let her see
his apprehension. "This fellow is considered the best driver in
the mountains," he prevaricated. Just then he remembered having