warned the girl. "It's dangerous in more ways than
one. But if you keep still no one'll suspect that you're here."

"But I must know what happened," he insisted with increasing excitement.
"I remember nothing after I came down the ladder. The Sheriff--Rance--
what's become . . .?"

The Girl chided him with gentle authority.

"You keep perfectly still--you mustn't say nothin' 'til you've rested.
Everythin's all right an' you needn't worry a bit." But then seeing that
he chafed at this, she added: "Well, then, I'll tell you all there is to
know." And then followed an account of the happenings of that night. It
was not a thoroughly truthful tale, for in her narrative she told him
only what she thought was necessary and good for him to know, keeping
the rest to herself. And when she had related all that there was to tell
she insisted upon his going to sleep again, giving him no opportunity
whatsoever to speak, since she left his bedside after drawing the
curtains.

Unwillingly the man lay back and tried to force himself to be patient;
but he fretted at the enforced quietude and, as a result, sleep refused
to come to him. From time to time he could hear the Girl moving
noiselessly about the room. The knowledge that she was there gave him a
sense of security, and he began to let his thoughts dwell upon her. No
longer did he doubt but what she was a real influence now; and the
thought had the effect of making him keenly alive to what his life had
been. It was not a pleasant picture that he looked back upon, now that
he had caught a glimpse of what life might mean with the Girl at his
side. From the moment that he had taken her in his arms he realised to
the full that his cherished dream had come true; he realised, also, that
there was now but one answer to the question of keeping to the oath
given to his father, and that was that gratitude--for he had guessed
rightly, though she had not told him, that she had saved him from
capture by the Sheriff and his posse--demanded that he should put an end
to his vocation and devote his life henceforth to making her happy.

Once or twice while thus communing with himself he fancied that he heard
voices. It seemed to him that he recognised Nick's voice. But whoever it
was, he spoke in whispers, and though the wounded man strove to hear, he
was unsuccessful.

After a while he heard the door close and then the tension was somewhat
relaxed, for he knew that she was keeping his presence