There was something in this suggestion of a hunted animal that, unlike anything she had previously said or suggested, was not exaggerated, and caused the young man to look at her again.  She was standing under the chimney-like opening, and the light from above illuminated her head and shoulders.  The pupils of her eyes had lost their feverish prominence, and were slightly suffused and softened as she gazed abstractedly before her.  The only vestige of her previous excitement was in her left-hand fingers, which were incessantly twisting and turning a diamond ring upon her right hand, but without imparting the least animation to her rigid attitude.  Suddenly, as if conscious of his scrutiny, she stepped aside out of the revealing light and by a swift feminine instinct raised her hand to her head as if to adjust her straggling hair.  It was only for a moment, however, for, as if aware of the weakness, she struggled to resume her aggressive pose.

“Well,” she said.  “Speak up.  Am I goin’ to stop here, or have I got to get up and get?”

“You can stay,” said the young man quietly; “but as I’ve got my provisions and ammunition here, and haven’t any other place to go to just now, I suppose we’ll have to share it together.”

She glanced at him under her eyelids, and a half-bitter, half-contemptuous smile passed across her face.  “All right, old man,” she said, holding out her hand, “it’s a go.  We’ll start in housekeeping at once, if you like.”

“I’ll have to come here once or twice a day,” he said, quite composedly, “to look after my things, and get something to eat; but I’ll be away most of the time, and what with camping out under the trees every night I reckon my share won’t incommode you.”

She opened her black eyes upon him, at this original proposition.  Then she looked down at her torn dress.  “I suppose this style of thing ain’t very fancy, is it?” she said, with a forced laugh.

“I think I know where to beg or borrow a change for you, if you can’t get any,” he replied simply.

She stared at him again.  “Are you a family man?”

“No.”

She was silent for a moment.  “Well,” she said, “you can tell your girl I’m not particular about its being in the latest fashion.”

There was a slight flush on his forehead as he turned toward the little cupboard, but no tremor in his voice as he went on:  “You’ll find tea and coffee here, and, if you’re bored, there’s a book or two.  You read, don’t you—­I mean English?”

She nodded, but cast a look of undisguised contempt upon the two worn, coverless novels he held out to her.  “You haven’t got last week’s ‘Sacramento Union,’ have you?  I hear they have my case all in; only them lying reporters made it out against me all the time.”

“I don’t see the papers,” he replied curtly.

“They say there’s a picture of me in the ‘Police Gazette,’ taken in the act,” and she laughed.