n a
piercing scream. "Ben--_Ben_--_don't drink it_!" she cried. "God have
mercy on my soul!"

But with that utterance a strength surpassing that of sinew and muscle
returned to her. She reached and knocked the cup from his hand; and its
black contents, like dark blood, stained the sandy floor of the cavern.

Ben's first thought was curiously not of his own narrow escape, but was
rather in concern for Beatrice. Whether or not he had actually
swallowed any of the liquor in the cup he did not know; nor did he give
the matter a thought. He was aware of only the terror-stricken girl
before him, her face deathly white and her eyes starting and wide. He
leaped to his feet.

Fearing that she was about to faint he steadied her with his hand. The
echo of her scream died in the cavern, the cup rolled on the floor and
came to a standstill against the wall; but still she made no sound, only
gazing as if entranced. But slowly, as he steadied her, the blessed
tears stole into her eyes and rolled down her white cheeks; and once
more breath surged into her lungs.

"Never mind, Beatrice," the man was saying, his deep, rough voice gentle
as a woman's. "Don't cry--please don't cry--just forget all about it.
Let's go over to your hammock and rest awhile."

With a strong arm he guided her to her cot, and smiling kindly, pushed
her down into it. "Just take it easy," he advised. "And forget all about
it. You'll be all right in a minute."

"But you don't understand--you don't know--what I tried to do--"

"No matter. Tell me after a while, if you want to. Don't tell me at all
if you'd rather not. I'm going back to my lunch." He laughed, trying to
bring her to herself. "I wouldn't miss that caribou steak for
anything--even though I can't have my tea. Just lay down a while, and
rest."

His rugged face lighted as he smiled, kindly and tolerantly, and then he
turned to go. But her solemn voice arrested him.

"Wait, Ben. I want you to know--now--so you won't trust me again--or
give me another chance. The cup--was poisoned."

But the friendly light did not yet wane in his eyes. "I didn't think it
was anything very good--the way you knocked it out of my hand. We'll
just pretend it was very bad tea--and let it go at that."

"No. It was nightshade--it might have killed you." She spoke in a flat,
lifeless voice. "I didn't want it to kill you--I just wanted to give you
enough to put you to sleep--so I could take your rifle shells and throw
th