't scairt t' go?" he ventured at
last. "Ain't afeerd o' nothin'?"

"No; and I'm going on my own hook, remember. It's not your fault."

"Y' kain't think o' no other way----"

She paused in front of him. "Can you?" she asked.

He could have sworn; but there was something in her face that forbade
it. "No--no," he said explosively, and so matched her determination with
his hot stubbornness.

He left her, and taking the rifle and all the ammunition there was,
seated himself on a bench placed just outside the door. There he was--a
pitiful sentinel--as she circled the shack and reined.

And now another question was presented: Should Marylyn stay or go?
Dallas was for her remaining, so that, in case of need, help could be
summoned--from somewhere. Marylyn sided with her. And it was long
afterward, when many things were made clear, before the elder girl
understood her sister's action--one that seemed so contrary to what the
younger one felt. But their father opposed them both, and vehemently.

Dallas upon the wagon-seat, prepared for her long drive, had softened
and touched him. She bore herself so bravely. She was so respectful, and
concerned.

"You take Mar'lyn," he insisted, "an' th' pistol. Ah c'n git along fine
by myself. Charley'll be comin', an' Ah'll hang on t' him. Ah reckon,
between us, we'll be O. K. 'Sides, y' know, Ah got a weasel's tail."

The mention of Charley won Dallas to her father's view. He would not be
alone all day, for the outcast would surely appear. On the other hand,
she longed to have Marylyn with her, where she could shield her from
cross words and possible harm. "We'll have Mr. Lounsbury with us coming
home," she said.

At that, Marylyn waxed still more eager to remain. And it took some
pleading to overcome her reluctance, and to bring about her consent.
Finally, however, the two girls drove away.

Before she started the team, Dallas climbed down to say good-by. In all
their lives, few caresses had ever passed between father and daughter,
and those had been during her babyhood. But now, moved by a common
impulse, each reached out at parting to clasp the other. And there were
tears in the eyes of both.

As the wagon trundled out of ear-shot, that one of the trio least
consulted in the affairs of the shack was hard beset by a temptation: to
tell Dallas about Lieutenant Fraser and his earnest, oft-repeated
promise of protection. But Marylyn hesitated, afraid to speak--no less
afraid of h