I've stolen Jane Withersteen's
cattle!... That's about the strangest thing yet."

One more trip he undertook to Oldring's valley, and this time he roped
a yearling steer and killed it and cut out a small quarter of beef. The
howling of coyotes told him he need have no apprehension that the work
of his knife would be discovered. He packed the beef back to camp and
hung it upon a spruce-tree. Then he sought his bed.

On the morrow he was up bright and early, glad that he had a surprise
for Bess. He could hardly wait for her to come out. Presently she
appeared and walked under the spruce. Then she approached the camp-fire.
There was a tinge of healthy red in the bronze of her cheeks, and her
slender form had begun to round out in graceful lines.

"Bess, didn't you say you were tired of rabbit?" inquired Venters. "And
quail and beaver?"

"Indeed I did."

"What would you like?"

"I'm tired of meat, but if we have to live on it I'd like some beef."

"Well, how does that strike you?" Venters pointed to the quarter hanging
from the spruce-tree. "We'll have fresh beef for a few days, then we'll
cut the rest into strips and dry it."

"Where did you get that?" asked Bess, slowly.

"I stole that from Oldring."

"You went back to the canyon--you risked--" While she hesitated the
tinge of bloom faded out of her cheeks.

"It wasn't any risk, but it was hard work."

"I'm sorry I said I was tired of rabbit. Why! How--When did you get that
beef?"

"Last night."

"While I was asleep?"

"Yes."

"I woke last night sometime--but I didn't know."

Her eyes were widening, darkening with thought, and whenever they did
so the steady, watchful, seeing gaze gave place to the wistful light. In
the former she saw as the primitive woman without thought; in the latter
she looked inward, and her gaze was the reflection of a troubled mind.
For long Venters had not seen that dark change, that deepening of blue,
which he thought was beautiful and sad. But now he wanted to make her
think.

"I've done more than pack in that beef," he said. "For five nights I've
been working while you slept. I've got eight calves corralled near a
ravine. Eight calves, all alive and doing fine!"

"You went five nights!"

All that Venters could make of the dilation of her eyes, her slow
pallor, and her exclamation, was fear--fear for herself or for him.

"Yes. I didn't tell you, because I knew you were afraid to be left
alone."

"Alone?" She echoe