You no tellum you be this
place."

Good Indian stood still, and looked at her. She stood with her
arms folded in her blanket, regarding him with a certain yearning
steadfastness.

"You all time think why," she said, shrewdly reading his thoughts, "I no
take shame. I glad." She flushed, and looked away to the far side of the
Snake. "Bad mans no more try for shoot you, mebbyso. I heap--"

Good Indian reached out, and caught her by both shoulders.

"Rachel--if you did that, don't tell me about it. Don't tell me
anything. I don't ask you--I don't want to know." He spoke rapidly, in
the grip of his first impulse to shield her from what she had done.
But he felt her begin to tremble under his fingers, and he stopped as
suddenly as he had begun.

"You no glad? You think shame for me? You think I--all time--very--bad!"
Tragedy was in her voice, and in her great, dark eyes. Good Indian
gulped.

"No, Rachel. I don't think that. I want to help you out of this, if I
can, and I meant that if you didn't tell me anything about it, why--I
wouldn't know anything about it. You sabe."

"I sabe." Her lips curved into a pathetic little smile. "I sabe you know
all what I do. You know for why, me thinkum. You think shame. I no take
shame. I do for you no get kill-dead. All time Man-that-coughs try for
shootum you. All time I try for--" She broke off to stare questioningly
up into his face. "I no tell, you no like for tell," she said quietly.
"All same, you go. You ketchum you hoss, you go ranch. I think sheriff
mans mebbyso come pretty quick. No find out you be here. I no like you
be here this time."

Good Indian turned, yielding to the pleading of her eyes. The heart of
him ached dully with the weight of what she had done, and with an uneasy
comprehension of her reason for doing it. He walked as quickly as the
rough ground would permit, along the bluff toward the grade; and she,
with the instinctive deference to the male which is the heritage of
primitive woman, followed soft-footedly two paces behind him. Once where
the way was clear he stopped, and waited for her to come alongside, but
Rachel stopped and waited also, her eyes hungrily searching his face
with the look a dog has for his master. Good Indian read the meaning of
that look, and went on, and turned no more toward her until he reached
his horse.

"You'd better go on to camp, and stay there, Rachel," he said, as
casually as he could. "No trouble will come to you." He h