his horse
blankets for a bed if that will please you."

"It will," she cried quickly. "If you don't return to the cabin you may go
on to Tete Jaune with me to-morrow. Is it a bargain?"

"It is!" he accepted eagerly. "I don't like to be chased out, but I'll
promise not to sleep in the cabin to-night."

Mrs. Otto was advancing to meet them. At the door he bade them good-night,
and walked on in the direction of the lighted avenue of tents and shacks
under the trees. He caught a last look in Joanne's eyes of anxiety and
fear. Glancing back out of the darkness that swallowed him up, he saw her
pause for a moment in the lighted doorway, and look in his direction. His
heart beat faster. Joyously he laughed under his breath. It was strangely
new and pleasing to have some one thinking of him in that way.

He had not intended to go openly into the lighted avenue. From the moment
he had plunged out into the night after Quade, his fighting blood was
roused. He had subdued it while with Joanne, but his determination to find
Quade and have a settlement with him had grown no less. He told himself
that he was one of the few men along the line whom it would be difficult
for Quade to harm in other than a physical way. He had no business that
could be destroyed by the other's underground methods, and he had no job to
lose. Until he had seen Joanne enter the scoundrel's red-and-white striped
tent he had never hated a man as he now hated Quade. He had loathed him
before, and had evaded him because the sight of him was unpleasant; now he
wanted to grip his fingers around his thick red throat. He had meant to
come up behind Quade's tent, but changed his mind and walked into the
lighted trail between the two rows of tents and shacks, his hands thrust
carelessly into his trousers pockets. The night carnival of the railroad
builders was on. Coarse laughter, snatches of song, the click of pool balls
and the chink of glasses mingled with the thrumming of three or four
musical instruments along the lighted way. The phonograph in Quade's place
was going incessantly. Half a dozen times Aldous paused to greet men whom
he knew. He noted that there was nothing new or different in their manner
toward him. If they had heard of his trouble with Quade, he was certain
they would have spoken of it, or at least would have betrayed some sign.
For several minutes he stopped to talk with MacVeigh, a young Scotch
surveyor. MacVeigh hated Quade, but he made no m