be! Her man provided
for her; he brought her meat to eat. He was clever and brave, for it was
other men's meat he brought her to eat. MacDonald had killed only his own
cattle, and secretly it had shamed her, for she mistook his honesty for
lack of courage. To steal was legitimate; it was brave; something to be
told among friends at night, and laughed over. Susie, she had observed
with regret, was honest, like her father. She patted the back of Smith's
hand, and looked at him with dog-like, adoring eyes as they stood in the
log meat-house, where fresh quarters hung.

"I'd do more nor this for you, Prairie Flower;" and, laying his hand upon
her shoulder, he pressed it with his finger-tips.

"Say, but that's great liver!" Tubbs reached half the length of the table
and helped himself a third time. "That'd make a man fight his grandmother.
Who butchered it?"

"Me," Smith answered.

"It tastes like slow elk," said Susie.

"Maybe you oughtn't to eat it till you're showed the hide," Smith
suggested.

"Maybe I oughtn't," Susie retorted. "I didn't see any fresh hide a-hangin'
on the fence. We _always_ hangs _our_ hides."

"I _never_ hangs _my_ hides. I cuts 'em up in strips and braids 'em into
throw-ropes. It's safer."

The grub-liners laughed at the inference which Smith so coolly implied.

The finding of White Antelope's body, and its subsequent burial, had
delayed the opening of Dora's night-school, so Smith, for reasons of his
own, had spent much of his time in the bunk-house, covertly studying the
grub-liners, who passed the hours exchanging harrowing experiences of
their varied careers.

A strong friendship had sprung up between Susie and McArthur. While Susie
liked and greatly admired the Schoolmarm, she never yet had opened her
heart to her. Beyond their actual school-work, they seemed to have little
in common; and it was a real disappointment and regret to the Schoolmarm
that, for some reason which she could not reach, she had never been able
to break through the curious reserve of the little half-breed, who,
superficially, seemed so transparently frank. Each time that she made the
attempt, she found herself repulsed--gently, even tactfully, but
repulsed.

Dora Marshall did not suspect that these rebuffs were due to an error of
her own. In the beginning, when Susie had questioned her naively of the
outside world, she had permitted amusement to show in her face and manner.
She never fully recognized the fac