horrible crags. The man had badly cut his foot, and the wound opened
on the march, but when he made the camp, almost too weary to crawl, he
went back right away, so that the Indians he took up might get there a
little quicker."

She broke off for a moment, with a flush in her face and a curious
little laugh.

"Now," she said, "I think I've made the thing quite plain, and I'm
glad I did."

There was an expressive silence for a moment or two, and then Major
Kinnaird looked at the others.

"I know nothing about the first incident, but I think that Miss
Stirling could have gone a little further when she described the last
one," he said. "My daughter, who was badly injured, would probably
have been left another day on the range, without food or any
attention, if it had not been for the courage and endurance the man
displayed. I wish to say, however, that I had no idea he was any
connection of Mr. Weston's until this moment."

Ida's heart warmed toward Kinnaird. Reserved and formal as he was, the
man could be honest, and it was evident that his few quiet words had
made almost as deep an impression as the outbreak to which she had
been impelled. There was another rather awkward silence; and then
Weston, who seemed to have forgotten the others, made a little abrupt
movement.

"What had my son to do with you?" he asked.

The question was flung at Kinnaird, but Ida saw that it was a relief
to him when she answered it.

"My father hired him. He was our camp-packer, the man who set up the
tents, made the fires, and poled the canoes," she said.

Weston stood up and, looking hard at Kinnaird, straightened himself.
His face was an unpleasant red, and there was badly-suppressed anger
in his eyes.

"Time is getting on, and we have rather a long drive," he said. "I may
ask Miss Stirling's leave to call on her later. In the meanwhile, if
Mrs. Kinnaird will excuse us----"

His hostess made no attempt to keep him; and, as he moved away, his
daughter stopped for a moment beside Ida's chair.

"I don't know whether what you have done was excusable or not, but you
have, at least, succeeded in making the breach between Clarence and
his father wider than ever," she said. "That was probably what you
intended?"

Ida was momentarily puzzled.

"Intended?" she said. "If either of you had done your brother justice,
I don't think I should have mentioned him at all."

Miss Weston smiled scornfully and moved away, but the blood crept