ot scorch them. The sharp pain waves still beat into her feet
and up her limbs. To change her position she drew up a stool and sat
on it. This she had pushed back to a corner of the fireplace.

For Bully West was straddling up and down the room, a pent volcano
ready to explode. He knew Whaley's advice was good. It would be
suicide to encumber himself with this girl in his flight. But he had
never disciplined his desires. He wanted her. He meant to take her.
Passion, the lust for revenge, the bully streak in him that gloated at
the sight of some one young and fine trembling before him: all these
were factors contributing to the same end. By gar, he would have what
he had set his mind on, no matter what Whaley said.

Jessie knew the fellow was dangerous as a wounded buffalo bull in a
corral. He would have his way if he had to smash and trample down
any one that opposed him. Her eyes moved to Whaley's black-browed,
bloodless face. How far would the gambler go in opposition to the
other?

As her glance shifted back to West, it was arrested at the window.
The girl's heart lost a beat, then sang a paean of joy. For the
copper-colored face of Onistah was framed in the pane.

CHAPTER XXIII

A FORETASTE OF HELL

Jessie's eyes flew to West and to Whaley. As yet neither of them had
seen the Blackfoot. She raised a hand and pretended to brush back a
lock of hair.

The Indian recognized it as a signal that she had seen him. His head
disappeared.

Thoughts in the girl's mind raced. If Winthrop Beresford or Tom Morse
had been outside instead of Onistah, she would not have attempted to
give directions. Either of them would have been more competent than
she to work out the problem. But the Blackfoot lacked initiative. He
would do faithfully whatever he was told to do, but any independent
action attempted by him was likely to be indecisive. She could not
conceive of Onistah holding his own against two such men as these
except by slaughtering them from the window before they knew he was
there. He had not in him sufficient dominating ego.

Whaley was an unknown quantity. It was impossible to foresee how he
would accept the intrusion of Onistah. Since he was playing his own
game, the chances are that he would resent it. In West's case there
could be no doubt. If it was necessary to his plans, he would not
hesitate an instant to kill the Indian.

Reluctantly, she made up her mind to send him back to Faraway for
help. He