"
"Who is _he_?" she asked, biting her lips with a poorly restrained
gesture of mortification and disappointment.
"Some stranger," replied Low.
"As long as he wasn't coming here, why did you give me such a fright?"
she said pettishly. "Are you nervous because a single wayfarer happens
to stray here?"
"It was no wayfarer, for he tried to keep near the trail," said Low.
"He was a stranger to the wood, for he lost his way every now and then.
He was seeking or expecting some one, for he stopped frequently and
waited or listened. He had not walked far, for he wore spurs that
tinkled and caught in the brush; and yet he had not ridden here, for no
horse's hoofs passed the road since we have been here. He must have
come from Indian Spring."
"And you heard all that when you listened just now?" asked Nellie half
disdainfully.
Impervious to her incredulity, Low turned his calm eyes on her face.
"Certainly, I'll bet my life on what I say. Tell me: do you know
anybody in Indian Spring who would likely spy upon you?"
The young girl was conscious of a certain ill-defined uneasiness, but
answered, "No.
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