sand years she'll
never forget the awfulness of that big Injun and the angel sweetness of
the little gal that saved her. Why, if Lahoma had asked for the rings
off her fingers, she could have had 'em, diamonds and all."

Wilfred rose and went to stare at the darkness from the small square
window. Not a word was spoken for some time. At last the silence was
broken by the Indian-- "UGH!" grunted Red Feather.

"Just so!" remarked Wilfred, with exceeding dryness.

"What are you thinking, Wilfred?" demanded Brick Willock.

"I'd have thought Lahoma would recognize the ladder."

"So she done; but couldn't the Injun have stole my ladder and carried
it to that boulder? Just as soon as Miss Sellimer was well enough to
travel, NOTHING couldn't hold her in these parts, and that's why your
brother had to leave before seeing you--he's setting to Miss Sellimer,
and if Lahoma don't git him away from her, I reckon he's a goner!"

Bill Atkins spoke vaguely. "It wasn't none of my doings."

Wilfred looked steadily at Willock. "What about your whiskers?"

"Oh, as to them, it was like old times; you takes a cloth and cuts it
out--painted red--Psha! What are we talking of? Bill, let's show him
her letter--what do you say?"

"I reckon it wouldn't hurt," Bill conceded.

"How'd you like it, Wilfred? We can't produce our little gal to keep
you company, but her letter would sort of be like hearing her talk,
wouldn't it? And if you stay with us a spell, we'll let you read 'em
as they come."

Wilfred perceived that Willock was anxious to get his mind off the
harrowing adventure of the crevice, and as he was eager to hear the
letter, and as Brick and Bill were anxious to hear it again, nothing
more was said about the "big Injun."

"Who'll read it?" asked Bill, as he drew the precious letter from the
strong box behind the stove.

"Let Wilfred do the deed," Willock suggested. "It travels slow in my
company, and though Bill reads 'er correct, he does considerable
droning. I expect if Wilfred reads it with unction, it'll sound like a
new document."

Wilfred drew the only stool in the room up beside the lantern, and Bill
and Brick disposed themselves on the bench, each holding his pipe on
his knee as if fearful of losing a word. Red Feather, his beady eyes
fastened on the young man's face, sat gracefully erect, apparently
alert to all that was going on. The lantern reddened the strong
clean-cut face of the young man, and to