"Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. Still, one never could tell. Try something. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start.
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