e in the East earning
money to carry me over the land and into the Pipi Valley. I joined a
party of emigrants that were goin' westward, and travelled far with
them. But they quarrelled and separated, I goin' with these that I liked
best. One night though, I took my horse and left; for I knew there was
evil in the heart of a man who sought me continually, and the thing
drove me mad. I rode until my horse could stumble no farther, and then
I took the saddle for a pillow and slept on the bare ground. And in the
morning I got up and rode on, seein' no house nor human being for manny
and manny a mile. When everything seemed hopeless I came suddenly upon
a camp. But I saw that there was only one man there, and I should have
turned back, but that I was worn and ill, and, moreover, I had ridden
almost upon him. But he was kind. He shared his food with me, and asked
me where I was goin'. I told him, and also that I had quarrelled with
those of my party and had left them nothing more. He seemed to wonder
that I was goin' to Pipi Valley; and when I had finished my tale he
said: 'Well, I must tell you that I am not good company for you. I have
a name that doesn't pass at par up here. To speak plain truth, troopers
are looking for me, and--strange as it may be--for a crime which I
didn't commit. That is the foolishness of the law. But for this I'm
making for the American border, beyond which, treaty or no treaty, a man
gets refuge.'

"He was silent after that, lookin' at me thoughtfully the while, but in
a way that told me I might trust him, evil though he called himself. At
length he said: 'I know a good priest, Father Corraine, who has a cabin
sixty miles or more from here, and I'll guide you to him, if so be you
can trust a half-breed and a gambler, and one men call an outlaw. If
not, I'm feared it'll go hard with you; for the Cypress Hills are not
easy travel, as I've known this many a year. And should you want a name
to call me, Pretty Pierre will do, though my godfathers and godmothers
did different for me before they went to Heaven.' And nothing said he
irreverently, father."

Here the priest looked up and answered: "Yes, yes, I know him well--an
evil man, and yet he has suffered too... Well, well, my daughter?"

"At that he took his pistol from his pocket and handed it. 'Take that,'
he said. 'It will make you safer with me, and I'll ride ahead of you,
and we shall reach there by sundown, I hope.'

"And I would not take h