had not
improved.

In a pathetic attempt to spruce up, he knotted the red bandanna around
his neck and punched Salzar's slouch hat into a peak.

"I look like a hootch-running Wop," he said. "Maybe I can get into the
house before I meet the ladies----"

"You look like one of Clinch's bums," remarked Wier with native honesty.

Darragh, chagrined, went to his bunk, pulled the morocco case from under
the pillow, and shoved it into the bosom of his flannel shirt.

"That's the main thing anyway," he thought. Then, turning to Wier, he
asked whether Eve and Stormont had awakened.

It appeared that Trooper Stormont had saddled up and cantered away
shortly after sunrise, leaving word that he must hunt up his comrade,
Trooper Lannis, at Ghost Lake.

"They're coming back this evening," added Wier. "He asked you to look
out for Clinch's step-daughter."

"She's all right here. Can't you keep an eye on her, Ralph?"

"I'm stripping trout, sir. I'll be around here to cook dinner for her
when she wakes up."

Darragh glanced across the brook at the hatchery. It was only a few
yards away. He nodded and started for the veranda:

"That'll be all right," he said. "Nobody is coming here to bother her.
... And don't let her leave, Ralph, till I get back----"

"Very well, sir. But suppose she takes it into her head to leave----"

Darragh called back, gaily: "She can't: she hasn't any clothes!" And
away he strode in the gorgeous sunshine of a magnificent autumn day, all
the clean and vigorous youth of him afire in anticipation of a reunion
which the letter from his lady-love had transfigured into a tryst.

For, in that amazing courtship of a single day, he never dreamed that he
had won the heart of that sad, white-faced, hungry child in rags --
silken tatters still stained with the blood of massacre, -- the very
soles of her shoes still charred by the embers of her own home.

Yes, that is what must have happened in a single day and evening. Life
passes swiftly during such periods. Minutes lengthen into days; hours
into years. The soul finds itself.

Then mind and heart become twin prophets, -- clairvoyant concerning what
hides behind the veil; comprehending the divine clair-audience what the
Three Sisters whisper there -- hearing even the whirr of the spindle --
the very snipping of the Eternal Shears!

* * * * *

The soul finds itself; the mind knows itself; the heart perfectly
understands.

He had not spoken