u think you'd do in these hills alone? You sure enough
belittle me, if you think you'd have a chance in a million of getting
away from me!"

She fought him, then, with a great, inner relief that the situation was
at last swinging around to a normal kidnapping. Still, Al Woodruff
seemed unable to play his part realistically. He failed to fill her with
fear and repulsion. She had to think back, to remember that he had
killed men, in order to realize her own danger. Now, for instance, he
merely forced her back to the campfire, pulled the saddle strings from
his pocket and tied her feet together, using a complicated knot which he
told her she might work on all she darn pleased, for all he cared. Then
he went calmly to work cooking their supper.

This was simple. He divided the grouse so that one part had the meaty
breast and legs, and the other the back and wings. The meaty part he
larded neatly with strips of bacon, using his hunting knife,--which
Lorraine watched fascinatedly, wondering if it had ever taken the life
of a man. He skewered the meat on a green, forked stick and gave it to
her to broil for herself over the hottest coals of the fire, while he
made the coffee and prepared his own portion of the grouse.

Lorraine was hungry. She broiled the grouse carefully and ate it, with
the exception of one leg, which she surprised herself by offering to Al,
who was picking the bones of his own share down to the last shred of
meat. She drank a cup of coffee, black, and returned the cup to the
killer, who unconcernedly drank from it without any previous rinsing.
She ate bannock with her meat and secretly thought what an adventure it
would be if only it were not real,--if only she were not threatened with
a forced marriage to this man. The primitive camp appealed to her; she
who had prided herself upon being an outdoor girl saw how she had always
played at being primitive. This was real. She would have loved it if
only the man opposite were Lone, or Swan, or some one else whom she knew
and trusted.

She watched the firelight dancing on Al's somber face, softening its
hardness, making it almost wistful when he gazed thoughtfully into the
coals. She thrilled when she saw how watchful he was, how he lifted his
head and listened to every little night sound. She was afraid of him as
she feared the lightning; she feared his pitiless attitude toward human
life. She would find some way to outwit him when it came to the point of
ma