safely invested? Besides, he could be censured by Burroughs no
more than many others who had taken his money and betrayed him.

"Speech! speech!" yelled the crowd. But Danvers could not speak.

"Let us go," whispered Mrs. Burroughs, as the demonstration continued.
She looked half in scorn, half in pity, on her husband, frustrated in
the ambition of years by the man he most hated--her brother. "Let us go,
Robert," she repeated.

The young daughter crept nearer and clasped her father's icy hand. She
did not understand the accusations made against a father who had shown
her nothing but love.

"Better luck next time, Bob," consoled Moore. "Don't let everybody see
how hard hit you are. Danvers is elected only for the short term, you
know--four years."

Choking, Burroughs attempted to force his way through the cheering,
struggling mob, and to clear a path for his wife and daughter. But as
the crowd gave way, in deference to the women, a new obstruction
presented itself.

Robert Burroughs did not recognize the slouching, dirty buck blocking
his way as Me-Casto, the once haughty pride of the Blackfeet federation,
or the obese, filthy squaw as Pine Coulee. The work of civilization had
obviously been in vain. But this tall, strapping 'breed reaching out his
unwashed hand! Burroughs gazed at a replica of himself as he had been at
Fort Macleod.

"Him you father?" questioned the half-breed, addressing the frightened
daughter. He had been well coached by the grinning McDevitt, so close
behind him.

"She you mother?" He pointed to Kate Danvers, high bred and aristocratic
in her scorn.

"She _my_ mother," the 'breed went on, fiendishly, indicating the
toothless, loathsome squaw, whose vindictive eyes never wavered from
Burroughs' craven face. "Him both our father!" The common parent was
given a fillip of a contemptuous thumb and finger.

Burroughs could not look at his wife, but he threw a furtive glance at
the flower-like face of his daughter. Her look of terror and of shame
was more than he could bear. Before all men he had been confounded;
before the wife whose love he had never won, his own passion proving his
torment; before his daughter, the idol of his heart.

As the surge of curious men pressed nearer he saw the malevolent joy of
Joseph Hall and of Chaplain McDevitt, and he knew who had planned his
disgrace. He saw Danvers, vainly striving to reach his sister.

"Let me out!" came in a thick gurgle from his swelli