uaw
name?"

She almost shrieked from the pain of his fingers' savage clutch into
her flesh. The courage died out of her arteries.

"Sleeping Dawn they called me."

"Too long," he pronounced. "I'll call you Dawn." The sight of her
terror of him, the foretaste of the triumph he was to enjoy, restored
him for a moment to a brutal good-humor. "An' when I yell 'Dawn' at
you o' mornin's, it'll be for you to hump yoreself an' git up to build
the fires and rustle breakfast. I'll treat you fine if you behave, but
if you git sulky, you'll taste the dog-whip. I'm boss. You'll have
a heluva time if you don't come runnin' when I snap my fingers.
Un'erstand?"

She broke down in a wailing appeal to whatever good there was in him.
"Let me go back to Father! I know you've broke prison. If you're good
to me, he'll help you escape. You know he has friends everywhere.
They'll hide you from the red-coats. He'll give you an outfit to get
away--money--anything you want. Oh, let me go, and--and--"

He grinned, and the sight of his evil mirth told her she had failed.

"Didn't I tell you I'd git you right some day? Didn't I promise Angus
McRae I'd pay him back aplenty for kickin' me outa his hide camp?
Ain't you the lil' hell-cat that busted my whiskey-kegs, that ran to
the red-coat spy an' told him where the cache was, that shot me up
when I set out to dry-gulch him, as you might say? Where do you figure
you got a license to expect Bully West to listen to Sunday-school pap
about being good to you? You're my squaw, an' lucky at that you got a
real two-fisted man. Hell's hinges! What's eatin' you?"

"Never!" she cried. "It's true what I told you once. I'd rather die.
Oh, if you've got a spark of manhood in you, don't make me kill
myself. I'm just a girl. If I ever did you wrong, I'm sorry. I'll make
it right. My father--"

"Listen." His raucous voice cut through her entreaties. "I've heard
more'n plenty about McRae. All I want o' him is to get a bead on
him once with a rifle. Get me? Now this other talk--about killin'
yoreself--nothin' to it a-tall. Go to it if tha's how you feel. Yore
huntin'-knife's right there in yore belt." He reached forward and
plucked it from its sheath, then handed it to her blade first,
stepping back a pace at once to make sure she did not use it on him.
"You got yore chance now. Kill away. I'll stand right here an' see
nobody interferes with you."

She shifted the knife and gripped the handle. A tumult seeth