“Hullo,” he said, while still a rod away, “what in blazes are you doing here, man—­are you lost?”

Beth nodded.  “I’m afraid I am.”  Her utterance was decidedly girlish, and quavering.

“Lost your voice somewhere, too, I reckon,” said Van.  “Where are you going?  Where are you from?”

“Starlight,” answered Beth, at a loss for a better reply, and making an effort to deepen her tones as she talked.  “I lost my horse in the storm.”

Van looked around the valley.

“Did, hey?  Didn’t happen to see a stray roof, anywhere, did you?  I lost one.”

“I—­haven’t seen anything,” faltered Both, whose only wish was to have him say something about her escape from this terrible place.  “But something frightened my pony.”

“I was curious to see how far that roof would hike, that’s all,” he told her by way of explanation of his presence here on his horse, and he turned to look at her again.  “Didn’t you know this so-called cut-off to Starlight would take you more time than the road?”

“No, I—­I didn’t know it,” said Beth, afraid he must presently penetrate her masquerade if he looked like that upon her.  “What do you advise me to do?”

He ignored her question, demanding: 

“Say, is your name Kent?—­Glenmore Kent?”

Beth felt her heart begin new gymnastics.  This was her cue.

“Why, yes.  But—­how did you know—­know me?”

“I’ve met your sister, in Goldite.  You can’t get to Starlight to-night.”

She had passed muster!  A herd of wild emotions were upon her.  But first here was her predicament—­and what he said was not at all reassuring.  Certain alarms that his coming had banished returned in a vague array.

She showed her dread in her eyes.  “Perhaps I could get to Goldite.”

“How?” He was half unconsciously patting Suvy, the horse, whose ecstasy thereat was not to be concealed.

Beth knew not how.  She wished Van would cease that study of her face.  Perhaps she could think more clearly.

“Why—­I suppose I could walk—­if I knew the way,” she said.  “Is it very far?  I admit I’m bewildered.  I was lost.”

“It would be a long ride,” he told her.  “A lost man is hopeless.  I couldn’t even show you the way so you could keep it—­especially at night.”

New fears came surging upon her in all their force and numbers.

“But—­what shall I do?”

Van reflected.

“My claim is the nearest camp from here, since the wind took down that shack.  And that was abandoned anyway.  Can you hike some twenty-odd miles?”

Twenty-odd miles!—­on foot!  For a second she was almost tempted to disclose herself, and beg him, for something a trifle more sympathetic than what he seemed to be offering another fellow man.  But that could not be done.  And night was descending rapidly.  The twilight was brief—­and on the wane.