t know, nor shall ever know, nor shall
any living being know, other than myself. And when I leave the wood
to-day I shall know it no longer. You are safe here as far as I am
concerned, but I cannot screen you from others prying. Let Low take you
away from here as soon as he can."

"Let him take me away? Ah, yes. For what?"

"To save you," said Dunn. "Look here, Teresa! Without knowing it, you
lifted me out of hell just now; and because of the wrong I might have
done her--for _her_ sake, I spare you and shirk my duty."

"For her sake!" gasped the woman--"for her sake! Oh, yes! Go on."

"Well," said Dunn gloomily, "I reckon perhaps you'd as lieve left me in
hell, for all the love you bear me. And maybe you've grudge enough agin
me still to wish I'd found her and him together."

"You think so?" she said, turning her head away.

"There, d----n it! I didn't mean to make you cry. Maybe you wouldn't,
then. Only tell that fellow to take you out of this, and not run away
the next time he sees a man coming."

"He didn't run," said Teresa, with flashing eyes. "I--I--I sent him
away," she stammered. Then, suddenly turning with fury upon him, she
broke out, "Run! Run from you! Ha, ha! You said just now I'd a grudge
against you. Well, listen, Jim Dunn. I'd only to bring you in range of
that young man's rifle, and you'd have dropped in your tracks like"--

"Like that bar, the other night," said Dunn, with a short laugh. "So
_that_ was your little game?" He checked his laugh suddenly--a cloud
passed over his face. "Look here, Teresa," he said, with an assumption
of carelessness that was as transparent as it was utterly incompatible
with his frank, open selfishness. "What became of that bar? The
skin--eh? That was worth something?"

"Yes," said Teresa quietly. "Low exchanged it and got a ring for me
from that trader Isaacs. It was worth more, you bet. And the ring
didn't fit either"--

"Yes," interrupted Dunn, with an almost childish eagerness.

"And I made him take it back, and get the value in money. I hear that
Isaacs sold it again and made another profit; but that's like those
traders." The disingenuous candor of Teresa's manner was in exquisite
contrast to Dunn. He rose and grasped her hand so heartily she was
forced to turn her eyes away.

"Good-by!" he said.

"You look tired," she murmured, with a sudden gentleness that surprised
him; "let me go with you a part of the way."

"It isn't safe for you just now," he s