lima beans and cooked some
of them, changing the water three times and always adding cold water.
For all that, supper was eventually ready and eaten and the dishes
washed--with Miss Bridger wiping them and with the Pilgrim eying them
both in a way that set on edge the teeth of Charming Billy.

When there was absolutely nothing more to keep them busy, Billy got
the cards and asked Miss Bridger if she could play coon-can--which was
the only game he knew that was rigidly "two-handed." She did not
know the game and he insisted upon teaching her, though the Pilgrim
glowered and hinted strongly at seven-up or something else which they
could all play.

"I don't care for seven-up," Miss Bridger quelled, speaking to him
for the first time since Billy returned. "I want to learn this game
that--er--Billy knows." There was a slight hesitation on the name,
which was the only one she knew to call him by.

The Pilgrim grunted and retired to the stove, rattled the lids
ill-naturedly and smoked a vile cigar which he had brought from town.
After that he sat and glowered at the two.

Billy did the best he could to make the time pass quickly. He had
managed to seat Miss Bridger so that her back was toward the stove and
the Pilgrim, and he did it so unobtrusively that neither guessed his
reason. He taught her coon-can, two-handed whist and Chinese solitaire
before a gray lightening outside proclaimed that the night was over.
Miss Bridger, heavy-eyed and languid, turned her face to the window;
Billy swept the cards together and stacked them with an air of
finality.

"I guess we can hit the trail now without losing ourselves," he
remarked briskly. "Pilgrim, come on out and help me saddle up; we'll
see if that old skate of yours is able to travel."

The Pilgrim got up sullenly and went out, and Billy followed him
silently. His own horse had stood with the saddle on all night, and
the Pilgrim snorted when he saw it. But Billy only waited till the
Pilgrim had put his saddle on the gentlest mount they had, then took
the reins from him and led both horses to the door.

"All right," he called to the girl; helped her into the saddle and
started off, with not a word of farewell from Miss Bridger to the
Pilgrim.

The storm had passed and the air was still and biting cold. The
eastern sky was stained red and purple with the rising sun, and
beneath the feet of their horses the snow creaked frostily. So they
rode down the coulee and then up a