mother!"

Smith looked in silence, and once more showed by his yellowing skin the
fear within him. The avenue of escape upon which he had counted almost
with certainty, was closed to him. At that moment the harsh, high walls of
the penitentiary loomed close; the doors looked wide open to receive him;
but, after an instant's hesitation, he only shrugged his shoulders and
said:

"Hell! I sleeps good anywhere."

In deference to Susie's wishes, Ralston and Babe had swung their horses to
go back down the path when Smith turned in his saddle and looked at Dora.
She was regarding him sorrowfully, her eyes misty with disappointment in
him; and Smith misunderstood. A rush of feeling swept over him, and he
burst out impulsively:

"Don't go back on me! I done it for you, girl! I done it to make _our
stake_!"

Dora stood speechless, bewildered, confused under the astonished eyes upon
her. She was appalled by the light in which he had placed her; and while
the others followed to the harness-house below, she sank limply upon the
door-sill, her face in her hands.

Smith sat on a wagon-tongue, swinging his legs, while they cleaned out the
harness-house a bit for his occupancy.

"Throw down some straw and rustle up a blanket or two," said Babe; and
McArthur pulled his saddle-blankets apart to contribute the cleanest
toward Smith's bed.

Something in the alacrity the "bug-hunter" displayed angered Smith. He
always had despised the little man in a general way. He uncinched his
saddle on the wrong side; he clucked at his horse; he removed his hat when
he talked to women; he was a weak and innocent fool to Smith, who lost no
occasion to belittle him. Now, when the prisoner saw him moving about,
free to go and come as he pleased, while he, Smith, was tied like an
unruly pup, it, of a sudden, made his gorge rise; and, with one of his
swift, characteristic transitions of mood, Smith turned to the Indians who
guarded him.

"You never could find out who killed White Antelope--you smart-Alec
Injuns!" he sneered contemptuously. "And you've always wanted to know,
haven't you?" He eyed them one by one. "Why, you don't know straight up,
you women warriors! I've a notion to tell you who killed White
Antelope--just for fun--just because I want to laugh, me--Smith!"

The Indians drew closer.

"You think you're scouts," he went on tauntingly, "and you never saw White
Antelope's blanket right under your nose! Put it back, feller"--he nodded