hich occasionally flapped in the wind with a startling
noise.

The bed-clothing, once turned back and inspected, was of a nature to
prevent the girl from disrobing; but finally she lay down, seeking such
rest as was possible, after turning the flickering flames of the lamp
as low as she dared, and then finally blowing it out altogether. The
glare from the street crept in through the cracks in the curtain,
playing in fantastic light and shadow across ceiling and wall, while
the infernal din never ceased.

Sleep was not to be attained, although she closed her eyes and muffled
her ears. The misshapen bed brought no comfort to her tired body, for
no matter how she adjusted herself, the result was practically the
same. Not even her mind rested.

Miss Donovan was not naturally of a nervous disposition. She had been
brought up very largely to rely upon herself, and life had never been
sufficiently easy for her to find time in which to cultivate nerves.
Her newspaper training had been somewhat strenuous, and had won her a
reputation in New York for unusual fearlessness and devotion to duty.
Yet this situation was so utterly different, and so entirely
unexpected, that she confessed to herself she would be very glad to be
safely out of it.

A revolver shot rang out sharply from one of the rooms below, followed
by the sound of loud voices, and a noise of struggle. The startled
girl sat upright on the cot, listening, but the disturbance ceased
almost immediately, and she finally lay down again, her heart still
beating wildly. Her thoughts, never still, wandered over the events of
the evening--the arrival at Haskell station, the strange meeting with
Westcott, and the sudden revelation that he was the partner of
Frederick Cavendish.

The big, good-natured miner had interested her from the first as
representing a perfect type of her preconceived ideal of the real
Westerner. She had liked the firm character of his face, the quiet,
thoughtful way in which he acted, the whole unobtrusive bearing of the
man. Then, as they had walked that long mile together in the darkness,
she had learned things about him--little glimpses of his past, and of
dawning hopes--which only served to increase her confidence. Already
he had awakened her trust; she felt convinced that if she needed
friendship, advice, even actual assistance, here was one whom she could
implicitly trust.

The racket outside died away slowly. She heard various gues