The Buchanan boat, invented by a United States officer whose name it bears, is a sack of canvas with a frame of light sticks; when put together it is about twelve feet long by five broad and three deep, and is capable of sustaining a weight of two tons.  Thurstane, thinking that he might have rivers to cross in his explorations, had brought one of these coracles.  At present it was a bundle, weighing one hundred and fifty pounds, and forming the load of a single mule.  Meyer got it out, bent it on to its frame, and found it in good condition.

“Very good,” said Thurstane.  “Roll it up again and store it safely.  We may want it to-morrow.”

Meantime Clara had thought out her problem.  In her indignation at Texas Smith she had contemplated denouncing him before the whole party, and had found that she had not the courage.  She had wanted to make a confidant of her relative, and had decided that nothing could be more unwise.  Aunt Maria was good, but she lacked practical sense; even Clara, girl as she was, could see the one fact as well as the other.  Her final and sagacious resolve was to tell the tale to Thurstane alone.

Mrs. Stanley, still jaded through with her forced march, fell asleep immediately after breakfast.  Clara went to the brink of the roof, caught the officer’s eye, and beckoned him to come to her.

“We must not be seen,” she whispered when he was by her side.  “Come inside the tower.  There has been something dreadful.  I must tell you.”

Then she narrated how she had surprised and interrupted Texas Smith in his attempt at murder; for the time she was all Spanish in feeling, and told the story with fervor, with passion; and the moment she had ended it she began to cry.  Thurstane was so overwhelmed by her emotion that he no more thought of the danger which he had escaped than if it had been the buzzing of a mosquito.  He longed to comfort her; he dared to put his hand upon her waist; rather, we should say, he could not help it.  If she noticed it she had no objection to it, for she did not move; but the strong and innocent probability is that she really did not notice it.

“Oh, what can it mean?” she sobbed.  “Why did he do it?  What will you do?”

“Never mind,” he said, his voice tender, his blue-black eyes full of love, his whole face angelic with affection.  “Don’t be troubled.  Don’t be anxious.  I will do what is right.  I will put him under arrest and try him, if it seems best.  But I don’t want you to be troubled.  It shall all come out right.  I mean to live till you are safe.”

After a time he succeeded in soothing her, and then there came a moment in which she seemed to perceive that his arm was around her waist, for she drew a little away from him, coloring splendidly.  But he had held her too long to be able to let her go thus; he took her hands and looked in her face with the solemnity of a love which pleads for life.

“Will you forgive me?” he murmured.  “I must say it.  I cannot help it.  I love you with all my soul.  I dare not ask you to be my wife.  I am not fit for you.  But have pity on me.  I couldn’t help telling you.”