child no longer, but a strong woman whose devotion to those she
loved rose boundless over every other feeling. It was this very devotion
that urged her and shut out every scruple, every qualm of conscience, at
the manner in which she had gained her ends.

Thus she passed out into the dark, starlit world, with its strange glare
of fire.

Once clear of the farm she heaved a deep sigh. The tension had relaxed now
that she felt herself to be doing at last. Cooped within the stockade, her
plans still waiting to be set in motion, she had felt nigh to choking with
nervousness. Her anxiety to be gone had been overwhelming. Perhaps none
knew better than she what the task of cajoling Seth meant, for he was not
an easy man when duty was uppermost in his mind. But that was all done
with now; she was out at last.

The freedom of her horse's gait felt good under her. There was confidence,
exhilaration to be drawn from each springing stride. And, too, there was a
new and delightful sense of responsibility in the heavy lolling of the
revolver holsters upon her hips. But above all there was the supreme
feeling that she was endeavoring to help those she had left behind.

Her tears had dried before she mounted to the back of the animal to which
she was now pinning her faith. The parting kiss she had imprinted upon the
man's thin cheek had inspired her. Life meant nothing to her without him.
Her fortune was nothing to her, no one was anything to her compared with
him. He stood out over everything else in her thoughts.

She heard the rumbling of the wheels of Joe Smith's wagons, but gave no
heed to them. Instead, she rode straight on to the south, purposely
avoiding the newcomers she was ostensibly going to meet. In a few minutes
she drew rein at Wanaha's log hut.

She was not without some doubts when she saw that the place was in
darkness. But her apprehensions were quickly dissipated. Her first summons
brought the squaw to the door, where her tall, dark figure stood out in
the gentle starlight.

As was her custom Rosebud handed the woman the reins to hook upon the
wall. She was constrained to do without her usual greeting, for she knew
that, here too, she must deceive to gain her ends. It would be madness to
tell the half-tamed savage her real intentions. Wanaha's love for her was
great, but well she knew that blood is thicker than water, and a savage's
blood more particularly so than anybody's else.

Once inside the hut Wanaha w