h you before we eat," he said. "You
see, I've wanted to right along, Nancy, but--Well, I want to tell you
you're no more responsible for Laval's life, and the lives of those
dogs, than I am. We're each playing our little parts in the things of
life like the puppets we are. Our hands are clean enough, but it's not
that way with the skunks that could send you, a girl, almost a child, to
do the work, and live the life that boys like Gouter hardly know how to
get through. That man, Peterman, is going to get it one day from me if I
have luck. And I won't call it murder when I get my hands on his dirty
alien throat. But never mind that. I want to ease that poor aching head
of yours. I want to try and get you some peace of mind. That's why I
tell you you've nothing to chide yourself for, nothing at all. It's
true. You've played the game like the loyal adversary you are. And, for
the moment, I'm top dog. You've handed me a bad nightmare by the
wonderful courage and grit you've well-nigh shamed me, as a man, with.
True, true you haven't a thing to blame yourself with. You've fought a
mighty big fight I'd have been pleased to fight. It's just circumstances
pitched you into the muss up, and let you see the thing your folks have
brought about. It's that that's worrying. Think, Nancy, think hard. This
is their fight. Not yours. The blood of Laval is on Elas Peterman's
head. His, and those other creatures who are ready to commit any crime
to steal our country from us. Oh, I'm not preaching just my side. It's
true, true. We at Sachigo were content to compete openly, honestly.
Peterman and those others saw disaster in our competition. And so they
got ready to murder--if necessary. It's the soulless crime of a gang of
unscrupulous foreigners, and those hounds of hell have left you to
suffer for it just as sure as if they'd seared your poor gentle heart
with a red hot iron. Say, Nancy," he went on, with persuasive
earnestness, "put it all out of your mind. Forget it all. You're out of
the fight now. And it just hurts me to see your eyes troubled, and that
poor tender heart of yours all broken up. Won't you?"

The girl had turned away to the gaping valley again. But she answered
him. And her tone was less dull, and it was without the dreadful passion
of moments ago.

"I--I've tried to tell myself something of that," she said, with the
pathetic helplessness of a child.

"Then try some more."

Bull had drawn nearer. He laid one hand gen