joined him, and the second time his glass was filled he
lifted it and glanced at Potter.

"Long life to you and the prettiest girl on either side of the
frontier!" he said.

They drank the toast with acclamation, and Courthorne, who strolled
away, retired early and started for the railroad before daylight next
morning. He laughed softly as he glanced back a moment at the lights
of the settlement.

"There are a good many places on this side of the frontier that will
suit me better than Silverdale," he said. "In fact, it's probable that
most of his friends have seen the last of Lance Courthorne."

CHAPTER X

AN ARMISTICE

The dismal afternoon was drawing in when Winston, driving home from the
railroad, came into sight of a lonely farm. It lifted itself out of
the prairie, a blur of huddled buildings on the crest of a long rise,
but at first sight Winston scarcely noticed it. He was gazing
abstractedly down the sinuous smear of trail which unrolled itself like
an endless ribbon across the great white desolation, and his brain was
busy. Four months had passed since he came to Silverdale, and they had
left their mark on him.

At first there had been the constant fear of detection, and when that
had lessened and he was accepted as Lance Courthorne, the latter's
unfortunate record had met him at every turn. It accounted for the
suspicions of Colonel Barrington, the reserve of his niece, and the
aloofness of some of his neighbors, while there had been times when
Winston found Silverdale almost unendurable. He was, however, an
obstinate man, and there was on the opposite side the gracious
kindliness of the little gray-haired lady, who had from the beginning
been his champion, and the friendship of Dane, and one or two of the
older men. Winston had also proved his right to be listened to, and
treated, outwardly at least, with due civility, while something in his
resolute quietness rendered an impertinence impossible. He knew by
this time that he could hold his own at Silverdale, and based his
conduct on the fact, but that was only one aspect of the question, and
he speculated as to the consummation.

It was, however, evident that in the meanwhile he must continue to pose
as Courthorne, and he felt, rightly or wrongly, that the possession of
his estate was, after all, a small reparation for the injury the outlaw
had done him, but the affair was complicated by the fact that, in
taking Courthorne's inherit