drooping figure and
pallid face, that there was not a man among them who did not feel more
like gathering him in their strong arms than jeering at him. Never
before had they realized what a weakly, effeminate little soul he was.

"It's all right, boys, you can let go." It was Joe who broke the
silence. They had almost forgotten they were still holding him lest
he should lay hands again on Shuter. Without a word they released him,
for they knew by the tone of his voice, and from the pitiful look he
gave his little driver, that he had forgotten all about his enemy. As
Joe strode toward Harry, and the yellow glare from the coal lamps,
fastened to posts behind the counter, fell athwart his powerful,
weather-beaten face and massive figure, they realized as they had
never done before the striking physical difference between the
scraper-handler and his driver, and wondered vaguely how two such
dissimilar characters could attract each other so powerfully.

"Don't mind her, Harry, don't mind her; she's not worthy of you. Let's
go." As arm and arm they strode out of the tent the men quietly
parted.

"I'll have a reckoning with that cub of yours some other time, Joe
Swan," shouted Shuter, with an attempt of bravado, as they were
disappearing. He had mistaken the humor of the men; one of them told
him to shut his cursed mouth.

Before the two silent figures had taken a dozen steps in the thick
darkness toward their own tent, the storm broke out afresh. The
turbulent clouds, unobstructed for hundreds of miles by either hills
or trees, were now hovering over the very sod, and at short intervals
vivid, sinuous gleams broke from them, and, serpent-like, went
writhing and glistening through the matted grass, while the roar of
the thunder made the apprehensive earth tremble perceptibly.

Joe had seen two such dread storms before, and so paid but little
attention to them. Thinking his companion might be afraid of the
appalling sight, he said, as he glanced down at his drawn face, "It's
only on the prairies one sees storms like these; and I've seen men as
didn't fear a revolver get mighty scared at a sight like this. First
time I saw it I felt queer enough."

"No, Joe, you misunderstand; if my face is white it's not because I'm
afraid of the lightning. I have been hurt to-night, Joe, worse than it
could ever hurt me."

Utterly forgetful of the warring elements, Joe halted abruptly, and
throwing his great arm around the slender sh