he said solemnly, "you talk like a madman. For shame!"

Dallas stood stock still, her eyes warning him. But it was too late.

Her father snickered, drew on his pipe once or twice, and then grinned
up at the evangelist. "It's gittin' light outdoors," he said
significantly. "Ah reckon y' could cross th' river."

And so David Bond and the white horse went the way of Lounsbury.

Nearly an hour passed before the section-boss addressed Dallas. "Wal?
wal? wal?"

She was wrapping up to do the morning chores. "Just as well, I guess,
dad," she said wearily. "The meal and bacon's pretty low. I've been
cooking out of the seed-sacks lately."

"Th' meal an' bacon's got t' las'," he answered. "Use th' seed ef y'
want t', an' don' give thet Injun so much. We shan't ast tick o' no
lallygaggin', do-a-grapevine-twist dandy."

Dallas sighed, found Marylyn to kiss her, and gratefully breasted the
chill air beyond the door.

His dismissal from the shack brought no hardship upon David Bond. He
found an old acquaintance in Colonel Cummings, who joyfully greeted him
as interpreter in the absence of Matthews. He found familiar faces among
the hostages, whose sullen reserve in his presence he laid to their
imprisonment. At barracks, the enlisted men chaffed him mischievously,
christened him "Methuselah," and installed him as "official doom sealer"
of the post. But when he passed them by to give every hour of his days
and nights to young Jamieson--young Jamieson, battling with all his
might against collapse--the men ceased chaffing, and listened to him
with respect. A crank on religion was one thing, a man with one eye on
the Bible and his sleeves rolled up for hard duty was another. The
troopers cared little for sermonising, but they honoured service. Then,
it was Jamieson for whom the evangelist was caring. And Jamieson held
the very heartstrings of the garrison.

As for Lounsbury, Brannon entertained him no less gladly. His was the
rare good-humour that enlivens every occasion. He practised at
target-shooting with the enlisted men; he played billiards with the
officers; he dined; made up sleigh rides; lent himself to theatricals;
furnished a fourth at cards, and, at the frequent dances, led out
homely and pretty alike.

To David Bond it seemed as if the storekeeper were indifferent to his
own dismissal from the shack. But one morning the evangelist
accidentally came upon the younger man. He was watching the Bend through
a telescope,