kill the man who struck me."

Minnie sighed wearily. "You don't understand, and I hope you never will.
Ralph, I have tried to bear it, but the life is killing me, and I have
grown horribly afraid of him. Moran, a friend of the creamery manager,
offered me a place at another station down the line, but I have no money
to get there and I cannot go like this. Tom is coming back to-night, and I
dare not tell him, so I wondered whether you would help me."

"Of course he will," said Aline, "and if your husband comes here making
inquiries I hope I shall have an opportunity for answering him."

I had the strongest disinclination to be mixed up in such an affair, but I
could see no escape from it. There were even marks of bruises on the poor
woman's face, and when, promising assistance, I went out to see to the
horses and think it over, Minnie Fletcher burst into hysterical sobbing as
Aline placed an arm protectingly around her. She had retired before I
returned, for I fancied that Aline could dispense with my presence and I
found something to detain me.

"Ralph, you are a genius," Aline said when I told her that I did not hurry
back, "I have arranged to lend her enough to buy a few things, and
to-morrow I'm going to drive her in to the store and the station. No, you
need not come; I know the way. Oh, don't begin to ask questions; just try
to think a little instead."

I allowed her to have her own way. Indeed, Aline generally insisted on
this, while with many protestations of gratitude Minnie Fletcher departed
the next morning, and I hoped that the affair was ended. In this I was
disappointed, for, returning with Jasper the next day from an outlying
farm, I found Aline awaiting me in a state of suppressed excitement. She
was paler than usual, and moved nervously, and the Marlin rifle lay on the
table with the hammer drawn back.

When Jasper volunteered to lead the horses in she dropped limply into a
chair.

"I have spent a terrible afternoon, Ralph. In fact, though I feel ashamed
of myself, I have not got over it yet."

I eased the spring of the rifle and inquired whether some wandering
Blackfoot had frightened her.

"No," Aline answered, "The Indians are in their own way gentlemen. It was
an Englishman. Mr. Thomas Fletcher called to inquire for his wife,
and--and--he didn't call sober."

Aline choked back something between a laugh and a sob before she
continued: "He came in a wagon with another little dark man with a