crossed the trail. We're going right into the mountains and it's
summer, and there's plenty of game."

"The Indians?"

"We'll be in the Crow's country, and Zavier's mother was a Crow."

The words proved the completeness of her estrangement--the acceptance
of the alien race as no longer alien.

"Oh, Lucy, don't, don't. Wait till we get to Fort Bridger and marry
him there. Make him come to California with us. Don't do such an
awful thing--run away into the mountains with a half-breed."

"I don't care what he is. There's no one else for me but him. He's my
man and I'll go with him wherever he wants to take me."

"Wait and tell Bella."

"She wouldn't let me go. There'd be nothing but fighting and misery.
When you've made up your mind to do a thing you've got to do it
yourself, not go by what other people think."

There was a silence and they hung upon each other. Then Lucy put her
face against her friend's and kissed her.

"Good-by," she whispered, loosening her arms.

"I can't let you go. I won't. It'll kill you."

"I must. He's waiting."

She struggled from the embrace, pulling away the clasping hands
noiselessly, but with purpose. There was something of coldness, of the
semblance but not the soul of affection, in the determined softness
with which she sought release. She stole to the tent flap and peered
out. Her thoughts were already outside, flown to the shape hiding in
the shadow like birds darting from a cage. She did not turn at Susan's
strangled whisper.

"We'll never see you again, Bella, nor I, nor the children."

"Perhaps, some day, in California. He's there. I must go."

"Lucy!" She leaped after her. In the tent opening they once more
clasped each other.

"I can't let you go," Susan moaned.

But Lucy's kiss had not the fervor of hers. The strength of her being
had gone to her lover. Friendship, home, family, all other claims hung
loose about her, the broken trappings of her maidenhood. The great
primal tie had claimed her.

A black figure against the pallor of the night, she turned for a last
word.

"If you tell them and they come after us, Zavier'll fight them. He'll
fight if he kills them. They'll know to-morrow. Good-by," and she was
gone, a noiseless shadow, flitting toward the denser group of shadow
where her heart was.

Susan, crouched at the tent flap, saw her melt into the waiting
blackness, and then heard the muffled hoof beats growing thinner and
f