in her cabin a
secret with all the wiles of a clever and loving woman. And more and
more he determined to gain an honoured place for her in some
community--an honoured place for himself and her. Vague, very vague, of
course, were the new purposes and plans that had so suddenly sprang up
because of her influence, but the desire to lead a clean life had
touched his heart, and since his old calling had never been pleasing to
him, he did not for a moment doubt his ability to succeed.

The morning was half gone when the Girl returned to her patient. Then,
in tones that did her best to make her appear free from anxiety, she
told him that it was the barkeeper, as he had surmised, with whom she
had been talking and that she had been obliged to take him into her
confidence. The man made no comment, for the situation necessarily was
in her hands, and he felt that she could be relied upon not to make any
mistake. Four people, he was told, knew of his presence in the cabin. So
far as Rance was concerned she had absolute faith in his honour, gambler
though he was; there was nothing that Nick would not do for her; and as
for the Indians, the secret was sure to be kept by them, unless
Jackrabbit got hold of some whisky--a contingency not at all likely, for
Nick had promised to see to that. In fact, all could be trusted to be as
silent as the grave.

The invalid had listened intently; nevertheless, he sighed:

"It's hard to lie here. I don't want to be caught _now_."

The Girl smiled at the emphasis on the last word, for she knew that it
referred to her. Furthermore, she had divined pretty well what had been
his thoughts concerning his old life; but, being essentially a woman of
action and not words, she said nothing.

A moment or so later he asked her to read to him. The Girl looked as she
might have looked if he had asked her to go to the moon.
Notwithstanding, she got up and, presently, returned with a lot of old
school-books, which she solemnly handed over for his inspection.

The invalid smiled at the look of earnestness on the Girl's face.

"Not these?" he gently inquired. "Where is the Dante you were telling me
about?"

Once more the Girl went over to the book-shelf; when she came back she
handed him a volume, which he glanced over carefully before showing her
the place where he wished her to begin to read to him.

At first the Girl was embarrassed and stumbled badly. But on seeing that
he seemed not to notice it she