And what they two said, in word and sign, I could not know, but
all the time I held my revolver upon him, until to my relief he abruptly
wheeled his horse and cantered back to his men, leaving me with wrist
aching and heart pounding madly.

She stepped lightly down; answered my querying look.

"It's all right. I'm going, and so are you," she said, with a faint smile,
oddly subtle--a tremulous smile in a white face.

About her there was a mystery which alarmed me; made me sit up, chilled,
to eye her and accuse.

"Where? We are free, you mean? What's the bargain?"

"I go to them. You go where you choose--to the stage road, of course. I
have his promise."

This brought me to my feet, rigid; more than scandalized, for no word can
express the shock.

"You go to them? And then where?"

She answered calmly, flushing a little, smiling a little, her eyes
sincere.

"It's the best way and the only way. We shall neither of us be harmed,
now. The chief will provide for me and you yourself are free. No, no," she
said, checking my first indignant cry. "Really I don't mind. The Indians
are about the only persons left to me. I'll be safe with them." She
laughed rather sadly, but brightened. "I don't know but that I prefer them
to the whites. I told you I had no place. And this saves you also, you
see. I got you into it--I've felt that you blamed me, almost hated me.
Things have been breaking badly for me ever since we met again in Benton.
So it's up to me to make good. You can go home, and I shall not be
unhappy, I think. Please believe that. The wife of a great chief is quite
a personage--he won't inquire into my past. But if we try to stay here you
will certainly be killed, and I shall suffer, and we shall gain nothing.
You must take my money. Please do. Then good-bye. I told him I would come
out, under his promise."

She and the rocks reeled together. That was my eyes, giddy with a rush of
blood, surging and hot.

"Never, never, never!" I was shouting, ignoring her hand. How she had
misjudged me! What a shame she had put upon me! I could not credit. "You
shall not--I tell you, you sha'n't. I won't have it--it's monstrous,
preposterous. You sha'n't go, I sha'n't go. But wherever we go we'll go
together. We'll stand them off. Then if they can take us, let 'em. You
make a coward of me--a dastard. You've no right to. I'd rather die."

"Listen," she chided, her hand grasping my sleeve. "They would take me
anyway--don't you