Within the cabin, the door closed behind him, the single small window shedding a dim light across the apartment, Winston turned, his hand still upon the latch, and confronted Beth Norvell and Mercedes.  Their presence there was so unexpected that the young man paused in sudden embarrassment, ready words failing him.  The two were seated close together on rude stools beneath the window, where they had evidently been in intimate conversation.  The former, her gaze lowered upon the floor, did not glance up; but Mercedes flashed her black eyes into his face, recognizing his confusion, and hastening to relieve it.  Warm-hearted, impulsive, already beginning to experience the value of true love, the young Mexican was eager to bring these two into a better understanding.  Her quick smile of welcome swept away for an instant all memory of the other’s apparent indifference.

“Ah, eet vas good you come, senor.  See, ve shut up here like prisoners; ve see nottings, ve hear nottings, ve know nottings.  Now ve make you tell us eet all, de whole story.  Miladi here, she tink eet all ver’ bad; she cry, de tear yet in her eye, an’ I know not vat to tell to make her feel bettah.  She ’fraid for ever’ting, but most I tink, she ’fraid for you, senor.”

Miss Norvell hastily laid her hand upon the girl’s sleeve in remonstrance, her face showing grave in the dim light.

“No, no, Mercedes; you must not say too much, or Mr. Winston will think us both very foolish.”

“Eet vas not foolish for us to vant to know, vas eet, senor?”

“Assuredly not.”  He walked across the narrow room, glanced into the face of the sleeping sheriff, came back beside them, and leaned against the wall.  The movement served to yield him confidence and self-control, to decide him as to his future course.  “What is it you are so desirous of knowing?”

“Vy, de whole ting, senor, de whole ting.”

He gazed directly into the partially upturned face of the other, as though urging her also to speak.

“We do not in the least comprehend the situation here, Mr. Winston,” she responded, her voice low and steady.  “No one has taken the trouble to explain.  We realize, of course, it must be serious, but possibly the strain would prove less if we understood clearly what must be met.”

The engineer bowed, drawing toward him an empty cracker-box, and sat down facing them both.

“I will relate the circumstances to you in all their unpleasantness,” he began quietly.  “Perhaps your woman wit may discover some loophole which has escaped us.”  Clearly, yet rapidly, he reviewed the salient points of the controversy between Farnham and the “Little Yankee,” his own brief connection with it, the discoveries made in the lower levels of the “Independence,” his desperate struggle with Burke, the swearing out and serving of warrants, the sudden change in situation which had placed them legally in the wrong, the accident to the sheriff, the curt dismissal of his deputy, and the probable consequences.  His voice grew deep as he proceeded, marking the intense interest with which they followed his recital.  Then he unfolded briefly the plan adopted for relief.  It was the impulsive Mexican who broke the silence that followed his conclusion.