w that you were to be attacked she ought to have warned you
before," commented Helen severely.

"Perhaps she had only just made the discovery or possibly she had not
been able to find an opportunity."

"She ought to have made one," was the answer in uncompromising tones.
"Any proper-spirited girl would have done."

Stane did not pursue the argument, and a moment later his companion
asked: "Do you think her pretty?"

"That is hardly the word for Miskodeed," answered Stane. "'Pretty' has
an ineffective sort of sound, and doesn't describe her quality. She is
beautiful with the wild beauty of the wilds. I never saw an Indian girl
approaching her before."

Helen Yardely frowned at the frank enthusiasm with which he spoke.

"Wild? Yes," she said disparagingly. "That is the word. She is just a
savage, with, I suppose, a savage's mind. Her beauty is--well, the
beauty of the wilds as you say. It is barbaric. There are other forms
of beauty that----"

She broke off abruptly, and the blood ran rosily in her face. Stane saw
it and smiled.

"Yes," he answered gaily. "That is true. And I think that, however
beautiful Miskodeed may be, or others like her, their beauty cannot
compare with that of English women."

"You think that?" she cried, and then laughed with sudden gaiety as she
rose to her feet. "But this is not a debating class, and I've work to
do--a house to build, a meal to cook--a hundred tasks appealing to an
amateur. I must go, Mr. Stane, and if you are a wise man you will
sleep."

She left the tent immediately, and as he lay there thinking over the
conversation, Stane caught the sound of her voice. She was singing
again. He gave a little smile at her sudden gaiety. Evidently she had
recovered from the mood of the early morning, and as he listened to the
song, his eyes glowed with admiration. She was, he told himself, in
unstinted praise, a girl of a thousand, accepting a rather desperate
situation with light heart; and facing the difficulties of it with a
courage altogether admirable. She was no helpless bread-and-butter miss
to fall into despair when jerked out of her accustomed groove. Thank
Heaven for that! As he looked down at his injured leg he shuddered to
think what would have been the situation if she had been, for he knew
that for the time being he was completely in her hands; and rejoiced
that they were hands so evidently capable.

Then he fell to thinking over the situation. They would be tied dow