uld not see her face, and by
the time she jumped up and he did see it, there was nothing in it to
betray the truth or the fact that she was acting a lie. First she began
to dress Peter for the trail. Every instant gave her more courage. This
helpless, sunken-cheeked man with the hair graying over his temples was
Peter, her Peter, the Peter who had watched over her, and sheltered
her, and fought for her ever since she had known him, and now had come
her chance to fight for him. The thought filled her with a wonderful
exultation. It flushed her cheeks, and put a glory into her eyes, and
made her voice tremble. How wonderful it was to love a man as she loved
Peter! It was impossible for her to see the contrast they made--Peter
with his scrubby beard, his sunken cheeks, his emaciation, and she with
her radiant, golden beauty. She was ablaze with the desire to fight.
And how proud of her Peter would be when it was all over!

She finished dressing him and began putting things in their big dunnage
sack. Her lips tightened as she made this preparation. Finally she came
to a box of revolver cartridges and emptied them into one of the
pockets of her under-jacket. Wapi flattened out near the door, watched
every movement she made.

When the dunnage sack was filled, she returned to Peter. "Won't it be a
joke on Captain Rydal!" she exulted. "You see, we aren't gong to let
him know anything about it." She appeared not to observe Peter's
surprise. "You know how I hate him, Peter dear," she went on. "He is a
beast. But Mr. Blake has done a great deal of trading with him, and he
doesn't want Captain Rydal to know the part he is taking in getting us
away. Not that Rydal would miss us, you know! I don't think he cares
very much whether you live or die, Peter, and that's why I hate him.
But we must humor Mr. Blake. He doesn't want him to know."

"Odd," mused Peter. "It's sort of--sneaking away."

His eyes had in them a searching question which Dolores tried not to
see and which she was glad he did not put into words. If she could only
fool him another hour--just one more hour.

It was less than that--half an hour after she had finished the dunnage
sack--when they heard footsteps crunching outside and then a knock at
the door. Wapi answered with a snarl, and when Dolores opened the door
and Blake entered, his eyes fell first of all on the dog.

"Attached himself, eh?" he greeted, turning his quiet, unemotional
smile on Peter. "First wh