“Why,” he said, “why—­of course.  Yes, we’ll both go.”

For in his new mood, warmed by the fire and the raw whiskey, and, further, having seen that she had done the thing with no mishap, he was willing to do what before he could not do.

“Come,” he said.  “Let’s hurry.”

Along the paths they had already made it was a much easier matter to make the return trip.  At the cliffs Gratton allowed Gloria to go ahead, since she knew the way up and he did not.  He followed her closely, and at first with little difficulty or hesitation.  The higher they climbed, however, the slower he went; once he hesitated so long that she began to believe that dizziness had overcome him and that he was coming no further.  But at length she came to the ledge and the wall King had made, and Gratton, looking up and seeing her above him, began climbing again.

Gloria held aside the canvas flap; he followed her into the cave.  Her fire, though low, still burned.  For the sake of more light she put on more dry wood from the great heap King had left for her.  She began to look about, planning swiftly just how easiest to move the few belongings which must go with her.  She could pile odds and ends into a blanket; she could remake the canvas roll as King had done so often; she and Gratton could drag the bundles to the front of the cave and push them over, down the cliffs.

“First, we’ll get things together, all in a heap,” she said aloud.

He came forward and stood warming his nervous hands at her fire, his eyes everywhere at once.  He marked the shipshape air of the cavern, the parcels which were to-night’s supper and to-morrow’s three poor little meals, each set carefully apart from the others on the rock shelf.  He saw how the firewood was piled in its place, not scattered; how Gloria’s bed and King’s looked almost comfortable because of the fir-boughs; how the clean pots and pans were in their places.  Then he turned his full eyes like searchlights upon the girl.

“And you,” he said, marvelling, “you actually came with a man like King into a place like this!”

“I was a fool,” cried Gloria.  “A pitiful little fool.  Oh!”

Had she been thinking less of Gloria and more of this other man with whom she was now to cope she must have marked a certain swift change in his attitude.  It became less furtive, more assured.  His eyes left her to rove again, lingered with the two couches, and returned to her.

“You found King wasn’t your kind,” he announced.  “You have quarrelled!”

“From the very beginning,” she replied quickly.  “He is unthinkable.  I would have left him long ago, only ...”

“Only there was no place to go,” Gratton finished it for her.  “And now,” he continued slowly, studying her, “you are willing to come with me.”

“Yes,” she told him unhesitatingly.

“But,” he offered musingly, “you refused me once and turned to him.”