The girl flashed a look of gratitude at him and went on with her
story. "Whenever we are near Stokimatis, I go to see her. She has
always been very fond of me. It wasn't really for money she sold me,
but because she knew Angus McRae could bring me up better than she
could. I was with her to-day when Onistah came in and told us what
this West was going to do. There wasn't time for me to reach Father. I
couldn't trust anybody at Whoop-Up, and I was afraid if Onistah came
alone, you wouldn't believe him. You know how people are about--about
Indians. So I saddled a horse and rode with him."

"That was fine of you. I'll never forget it, Miss McRae," the young
soldier said quietly, his eyes for an instant full on hers. "I don't
think I've ever met another girl who would have had the good sense and
the courage to do it."

Her eyes fell from his. She felt a queer delightful thrill run through
her blood. He still respected her, was even grateful to her for what
she had done. No experience in the ways of men and maids warned her
that there was another cause for the quickened pulse. Youth had looked
into the eyes of youth and made the world-old call of sex to sex.

In a little pocket opening from the draw Morse arranged blankets for
the girl's bed. He left Beresford to explain to her that she could
sleep there alone without fear, since a guard would keep watch against
any possible surprise attack.

When the soldier did tell her this, Jessie smiled back her
reassurance. "I'm not afraid--not the least littlest bit," she said
buoyantly. "I'll sleep right away."

But she did not. Jessie was awake to the finger-tips, her veins apulse
with the flow of rushing rivers of life. Her chaotic thoughts centered
about two men. One had followed crooked trails for his own profit.
There was something in him hard and unyielding as flint. He would
go to his chosen end, whatever that might be, over and through any
obstacles that might rise. But to-night, on her behalf, he had thrown
down the gauntlet to Bully West, the most dreaded desperado on the
border. Why had he done it? Was he sorry because he had forced her
father to horsewhip her? Or was his warning merely the snarl of one
wolf at another?

The other man was of a different stamp. He had brought with him from
the world whence he had come a debonair friendliness, an ease of
manner, a smile very boyish and charming. In his jaunty forage cap and
scarlet jacket he was one to catch and ho