s
though in extenuation of something. "The mere presence of such a savage in
the sick girl's room is enough to upset any one unused to this border
life--it upset me completely. You see, I have a daughter of my own back
East."

"So Max tells me," replied Overton, carelessly, all unconscious of the
intended honor extended to him when Mr. Haydon made mention of his own
family to a ranger of a few hours' acquaintance.

"Yes," Haydon continued, "and that naturally makes one feel an interest in
any young girl without home or--relatives, as this invalid is; and I would
be glad of any information concerning her--or any hint of help I might be
to her, partly for--humanity's sake, and partly for Max."

"At present I don't know of any service you could render her," said
Overton, coldly, conscious of a jarring, unpleasant feeling as the man
talked to him. He thought idly to himself how queer it was that he should
have an instinctive feeling of dislike for a person who in the slightest
degree resembled 'Tana; and this stranger must have resembled her much
before he grew stout and broad of face; the hair, the nose, and other
points about the features, were very much alike. He did not wonder that
Akkomi might have been startled at it, and made comments. But as he
himself surveyed Mr. Haydon's features by the flickering light of the
burning sticks, he realized how little the likeness of outlines amounted
to after all, since not a shadow of expression on the face before him was
like that of the girl whose sleep was so carefully guarded in the cabin.

And then, with a feeling of thankfulness that it was so, there flashed
across his mind the import of the stranger's closing words--"for the sake
of Max."

"For Max, you said. Well, maybe I am a little more stupid than usual
to-night, but I must own up I can't see how a favor to 'Tana could affect
Max very much."

"You do not?"

"I tell you so," said Overton curtly, not liking the knowing smile in the
eyes of the speaker. He did not want to be there talking to him, anyway.
To walk alone under the stars was better than the discord of a voice
unpleasant. Under the stars she had come to him that once--once, when she
had been clasped close--close! when she had whispered words near to his
heart, and their hands had touched in the magnetism of troubled joy. Ah!
it was best to remember that, though death itself follow after! A short,
impatient sigh touched his lips as he tried to listen to