nt Swift, of Fort Washakie, who was of the
Wetmore party, came to claim Kitty's hand for the next dance. Judith and
Henderson were leading the last figure, their hands clasped high in an
arch through which the dancers trooped in couples. Again and again he
tried to catch Judith's eye, but her glance never once met his. Her great,
wide eyes had a far-away look as if they saw some tragedy, the shadow of
which would never fall from her. She was, indeed, the tragic muse in her
floating white drapery, the tragic muse whose grief is too deep for tears.
He watched her as she swept towards him in the figure of the dance, the
head thrown back, slightly foreshortened, the mouth smiling with the smile
that knows all things, the eyes holy wells of truth. He saw in her
something of the tenderness of Eve, for all the blending of the calm
modern woman, capable in affairs, equal to emergency. It was like her to
contrive her brother's escape and then to dance with the very men who had
knotted the noose for his hanging. Henderson was bowing to her, the dance
was over, and the next moment she was alone.

"Is it you, Peter?" She thrust a strand of hair back from her temple. Her
eyes rested on him for a moment, then wandered, till in their absent look
was the rapt expression of the sleep-walker. The dark-rimmed eyes had in
their depths the quiet of a conflagration, and Peter, seeing these things,
and knowing the gamut of all her moods, saw that he had been mistaken. She
had not come, to dance in triumph, in the face of her brother's enemies.
There was no triumph in her face, but white, consuming despair.

"Did you ask me to dance?" Again she put back the strand of hair. "Forgive
me for being so stupid, but I've kept post-office to-day, and had a long
ride, and I danced with Henderson."

He drew her arm within his and led the way out through the crowd of
dancers to the star-strewn night. She did not speak again, nor did she
seem to notice that they had left the room with the dancers. She turned
her face towards the lonely valley, where the drama of her brother's
passing had been consummated, and something there was in her look as it
turned towards the hills that told Peter.

"Tell me, Judith, 'what has happened?"

For answer she pointed towards the valley. "They did it last night at the
dead cotton-woods. Henderson led them. I could not stay with Alida. I had
to come here to dance that no one might suspect."

Her voice was steady, but l