But one of them, struck by his intense gaze, suddenly turned
and came towards him.
"Miss Falchion! Miss Falchion!" he cried. Then, when she hesitated as if
with an effort of memory, he added: "Don't you know me?"
"Ah," she replied abruptly, "Sam Kilby! Are you Sam Kilby, Jo
Brackenbury's friend, from Samoa?"
"Yes, miss, I'm Jo Brackenbury's friend; and I've rowed you across the
reefs with him more than once I guess so! But it's a long way from Apia
to the Rockies, and it's funny to meet here."
"When did you come here--and from where?"
"I come to-day from the Hudson's Bay post at Danger Mountain. I'm Phil
Boldrick's pal."
"Ah," she said again, with a look in her eyes not pleasant to see, "and
what brings you up here in the hills?" Hers was more than an ordinary
curiosity.
"I come to see the Padre who was with Phil--when he left. And the Padre's
a fair square sort, as I reckon him, but melancholy, almighty
melancholy."
"Yes, melancholy, I suppose," she said, "and fair square, as you say. And
what did you say and do?"
"Why, we yarned about Phil, and where I'd get the legacy to-morrow; and I
s'pose I had a strong breeze on the quarter, for I talked as free as if
we'd grubbed out of the same dough-pan since we was kiddies.
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