at
she had done a commendable thing--that the country ought to feel grateful
to her, for the man had made trouble along the Columbia for years. He and
his confederates had done ugly work along the border, etc., etc.

"Sorry you asked me, Max?" she said, seeing his face grow gloomy under
their cheering (?) assertions.

He did not answer at once, afraid his impatience with her might make
itself apparent in his speech.

"No, I'm not sorry," he said, at last; "but I shall be relieved when the
others arrive from the lake. Since you utterly refuse to confide even in
me, you render me useless as to serving you; and--well--I can't feel
flattered that you confide in me no more than in the strangers here."

"I know," she agreed, with a little sigh, "it is hard on you, and it will
be harder still if the story of this should ever creep out of the
wilderness to the country where you come from--wouldn't it?" and she
looked at him very sharply, noting the swift color flush his face, as
though she had read his thoughts. "Yes--so it's lucky, Max, that we
haven't talked to others about that little conditional promise, isn't it?
So it will be easier to forget, and no one need know."

"You mean you think me the sort of fellow to break our engagement just
because these fools have mixed you up with this horror?" he asked,
angrily. "You've no right to think that of me; neither have you the
right--in justice to me as well as yourself--to maintain this very
suggestive manner about all things connected with the murder. Why can you
not tell more clearly where your time was spent last evening? Why will you
not tell where the ring came from? Why will you see me half-frantic over
the whole miserable affair, when you could, I am sure, easily change it?"

"Oh, Max, I don't want to worry you--indeed I don't! But--" and she smiled
mirthlessly. "I told you once I was a 'hoodoo.' The people who like me are
always sure to have trouble brewing for them. That is why I say you had
better give me up, Max; for this is only the beginning."

"Don't talk like that; it is folly," he said, in a sharp tone. "'Hoodoo!'
Nonsense! When Overton and the others arrive, they will find a means of
changing the ideas of these people, in spite of your reticence; and then
maybe old Akkomi may find words, too. He sits outside the door as
impassive as the clay image you gave me and bewitched me with."

She smiled faintly, thinking of those days--how very long ago they seeme