ine?"

Calamity continued to knit her fingers in and out. "All 'same," she
said, "Messieu Waylan', he telephone Messieu MacDonal' come 'mine help
him t'-morrow!"

"Telephone my father? Why, how could he? I have been right here,
Calamity?"

"You go see Missy Villam, leetle gurl," explained Calamity. "Messieu
Waylan' he ride down hog back trail woods all night, 'lone! He ring
ting--ling--says he go 'samin mine."

Then, the child's babble, the looks of the two at the Cabin, her
father's wistful face, the quick departure of Matthews and himself,
followed almost immediately by Moyese's motor, confirmed Calamity's
incoherent account. Eleanor ran out to the telephone in the living
room, and rang for the Ranger's Cabin. There was no answer on the
local circuit, and Central at Smelter City could only say "They don't
answer! Try local!"

Yet why should she feel such alarm? Had he not gone down to the
Desert, and come back, and she had not known fear? Was the fear for
her father? Was it her father's wistful look? What could she do?
Would he wish her to do anything? This, too, was on the Firing Line,
but reason how she would, she could not subdue her fears, nor keep the
tremor from her hands as she ran back to the bed room dimly lighted by
the candle above the desk at the head of the bed.

"Calamity, you don't think there is any danger to Father?"

Then Calamity did the strangest thing that ever Eleanor had seen her
do. She had thrown off the shawl. She had drawn herself up on
moccasined tip-toes, and seemed suddenly to have thrown off age and
abuse and disgrace and rags and sin, with her eyes fixed stonily on the
far spaces of her wrecked youth, the lids wide open, the whites
glistening, a mad look in the dilated pupils shining like fire; and her
fingers were knitting in and out of her palms.

"M' man," she whispered, "dey keel heem, dey hang heem! M' babee, dey
take it away, d' pries' he sing--sing an' wave candle an' bury it in
snow. Leetle Ford, d' keel heem! D' punish Indian man, d' hang heem,
m' man! Moyese, he keel leetle Ford: he go free, not'ng hurt heem!"
She burst out laughing, low voiced cunning laughter. "I go see," she
said. "I ride down hog's back t' d' mine! I go see! Messieu
MacDonal'--He help me! I help heem! I go see," and before Eleanor had
grasped the import of the words, the woman had darted out into the
dark; and a moment later, Eleanor heard the basement door clang. There