EWING 'S STORY 61 



" Don't mind my foolishness, please !" he said. 

 "Really, I'm more than grateful for what you did. 

 You saved my life, I think. If there were any pos- 

 sible way I could show my gratitude I'd be only too 

 glad to do so." 



"You might tell me," I said, on the impulse of 

 the moment, "what you meant just now by that re- 

 mark about your luck?" 



Ewing glanced at me sharply. 



"That's a matter which I don't care to talk 

 about." 



"Oh, very well!" I answered, and that was all. 



We were rather silent for the rest of the journey 

 to camp nor did either of us refer again to the topic 

 so summarily dismissed. 



But after supper, as I sat alone in front of my 

 tent, the violinist crossed over and flung himself on 

 the ground beside me. 



"I was a little short this afternoon," he began, 

 "and I'm sorry I spoke as I did. I hope you're not 

 offended." 



"Of course not!" 



"Well, I'm glad of that. I often think I'm get- 

 ting morbid on certain subjects. Things have hap- 

 pened th'at well I thought you were trying to 

 that you were getting curious." 



"You were right," I interrupted. "I was curi- 

 ous about you, Ewing. To be frank, I can't see why 

 a man of your obvious education and talents should 



