all, as I may feel it necessary
to be here at night, so don't wait for me."

"All right, Overton; but we'd like to have you."

After the others had left the cabin, Akkomi still remained, and the girl
watched him uneasily but did not speak. She talked to Harris, telling him
of the funny actions of the two frightened women, but all the time she
talked and tried to entertain the helpless man, it was with an evident
effort, for the dark old Indian's face at the door was constantly drawing
her attention.

When she finally entered her own room, he appeared at the entrance, and,
after a careful glance, to see that no one was near, he entered and
spoke:

"'Tana, it is now two suns since we talked. Will you go to-day in my boat
for a little ways?"

"No," she said, angrily. "Go home to your tepee, Akkomi, and tell the man
there I am sorry he is not dead. I never will see him again. I go away
from this place now--very soon--maybe this week. What becomes of him I do
not care, and it will be long before I come back."

He muttered some words of regret, and she turned to him more kindly.

"Yes, I know, Akkomi, you are my good friend. You think it is right to do
what you are doing now. Maybe it is; maybe I am wrong. But I will not be
different in this matter--never--never!"

"If he should come here--"

"He would not dare. There are people here he had better fear. Give him the
names of Seldon and of Haydon."

"He knows; but it is the new miners he fears most; they come from all
parts. He wants money."

"Let him work for it, like an honest man," she said, curtly. "Don't talk
of it again. I will not go outside the camp alone, and I will not listen
to any more words about it. Now mind that!"

In the other cabin, Harris listened intently to each word uttered. His
eyes fairly blazed in his eagerness to hear 'Tana's final decision. But
when Akkomi slouched past his door, and peered in, with his sharp, quick
eyes, he had relapsed again into the apathetic state habitual to him. To
all appearances he had not heard their words, and the old Indian walked
thoughtfully past the tents and out into the timber.

Lyster called some light greeting to him, but he barely looked up and made
no reply whatever. His thoughts were evidently on other things than camp
sociabilities.

It was dark when he returned, and his fit of thoughtfulness was yet upon
him, for he spoke to no one. Overton, who had been talking to Harris,
noticed him smoking