l I do with you?"

"Are--you--a rider?" she whispered.

"Not now. I was once. I drove the Withersteen herds. But I lost my
place--lost all I owned--and now I'm--I'm a sort of outcast. My name's
Bern Venters."

"You won't--take me--to Cottonwoods--or Glaze? I'd be--hanged."

"No, indeed. But I must do something with you. For it's not safe for
me here. I shot that rustler who was with you. Sooner or later he'll
be found, and then my tracks. I must find a safer hiding-place where I
can't be trailed."

"Leave me--here."

"Alone--to die!"

"Yes."

"I will not." Venters spoke shortly with a kind of ring in his voice.

"What--do you want--to do--with me?" Her whispering grew difficult, so
low and faint that Venters had to stoop to hear her.

"Why, let's see," he replied, slowly. "I'd like to take you some place
where I could watch by you, nurse you, till you're all right."

"And--then?"

"Well, it'll be time to think of that when you're cured of your wound.
It's a bad one. And--Bess, if you don't want to live--if you don't fight
for life--you'll never--"

"Oh! I want--to live! I'm afraid--to die. But I'd rather--die--than go
back--to--to--"

"To Oldring?" asked Venters, interrupting her in turn.

Her lips moved in an affirmative.

"I promise not to take you back to him or to Cottonwoods or to Glaze."

The mournful earnestness of her gaze suddenly shone with unutterable
gratitude and wonder. And as suddenly Venters found her eyes beautiful
as he had never seen or felt beauty. They were as dark blue as the sky
at night. Then the flashing changed to a long, thoughtful look, in which
there was a wistful, unconscious searching of his face, a look that
trembled on the verge of hope and trust.

"I'll try--to live," she said. The broken whisper just reached his ears.
"Do what--you want--with me."

"Rest then--don't worry--sleep," he replied.

Abruptly he arose, as if words had been decision for him, and with a
sharp command to the dogs he strode from the camp. Venters was conscious
of an indefinite conflict of change within him. It seemed to be a
vague passing of old moods, a dim coalescing of new forces, a moment of
inexplicable transition. He was both cast down and uplifted. He wanted
to think and think of the meaning, but he resolutely dispelled emotion.
His imperative need at present was to find a safe retreat, and this
called for action.

So he set out. It still wanted several hours before dark. This t