t?"

"Put-up job?" Fraser reddened, keeping a straight face with difficulty.
"I give my word," he said solemnly, "that you're wanted as interpreter,
and that I'll conduct you safely to headquarters."

Matthews put down the cigar-box and saluted.

"Word of an officer," he said, "is different. And if I can do
anythin'--long's it's ladies----"

He reached to a shelf for his hat.

CHAPTER XII

A CONFESSION

That night, after Squaw Charley had come and gone, Dallas returned from
the lean-to, where she had fed and bedded Simon and the team, to find
Marylyn lying before the hearth, her face flushed and wet with tears.
Instantly, all concern, the elder girl knelt beside her.

"Marylyn," she begged, smoothing the soft, unbraided hair spread out
upon the robe, "Marylyn, what's the matter?"

A long sob.

"Why, dear baby, don't you fret. We're going to be all right. Dad'll
soon be back, Mr. Lounsbury's watching, and we won't lose the little
home."

"Oh, it ain't that, it ain't that," weeping harder than before; "I'm so
unhappy!"

It was an answer that smote Dallas to the heart. Some trouble,
heretofore concealed, was threatening her sister's peace of mind. And
she had not discovered it in time, had not prevented it, had not
shielded her as she ought.

"Marylyn, honey, tell me what's the matter."

The younger girl crept closer, screening her eyes.

Dallas lifted her into her arms. Her cheek was feverish, her hands were
dry and hot.

Sudden terror seized the elder girl--the old terror that had fastened
upon her through all the years of her mother's failing.

"Marylyn," she said huskily, "do you feel that--that you're not as well
as you was? are you afraid you'll be sick like--mother?"

There was an answering shake of the head.

Dallas pressed her close, murmuring her thankfulness, whispering broken
endearments. "Oh, Dal's so glad! She couldn't stand it if her baby
sister was to suffer. Oh, honey-heart! honey-heart!"

But Marylyn was not comforted.

"Listen," bade Dallas. "In all your life have you ever asked me to do
anything that I didn't do? or to give you anything that I didn't give
you if I could? And now something's fretting you. I can't think what it
is. But you got to tell me, and I'll help you out."

"No, no!"

"I don't care what it is, I won't blame you; if it's something
wrong,--why, it couldn't be,--I'll forgive you. You know that, Marylyn."

Again, "No, no," but with less resistanc