now it's hard
for me to look at you and be calm."

"Don't try to be! Swear at me--curse--rave--beat me; I'd be glad of
the blows, Pierre. I'd hold out my arms to 'em. But don't go out that
door!"

"Why?"

"Because--if you found her--she's not alone."

"Say that slowly. I don't understand. She's not alone?"

"I'll try to tell you from the first. She started out for you with
Dick Wilbur for a guide."

"Good old Dick, God bless him! I'll fill all his pockets with gold for
that; and he loves her, you know."

"You'll never see Dick Wilbur again. On the first night they camped
she missed him when he went for water. She went down after a while and
saw the mark of his body on the sand. He never appeared again."

"Who was it?"

"Listen. The next morning she woke up and found that some one had
taken care of the fire while she slept, and her pack was lashed on one
of the saddles. She rode on that day and came at night to a camp-fire
with a bed of boughs near it and no one in sight. She took that camp
for herself and no one showed up.

"Don't you see? Some one was following her up the valley and taking
care of the poor baby on the way. Some one who was afraid to let
himself be seen. Perhaps it was the man who killed Dick Wilbur without
a sound there beside the river; perhaps as Dick died he told the man
who killed him about the lonely girl and this other man was white
enough to help Mary.

"But all Mary ever saw of him was that second night when she thought
that she saw a streak of white, traveling like a galloping horse, that
disappeared over a hill and into the trees--"

"A streak of white--"

"Yes, yes! The white horse--McGurk!"

"McGurk!" repeated Pierre stupidly; then: "And you knew she would be
going out to him when she left this house?"

"I knew--Pierre--don't look at me like that--I knew that it would be
murder to let you cross with McGurk. You're the last of seven--he's a
devil--no man--"

"And you let her go out into the night--to him."

She clung to a last thread of hope: "If you met him and killed him with
the luck of the cross it would bring equal bad luck on some one you
love--on the girl, Pierre!"

He was merely repeating stupidly: "You let her go out--to him--in the
night! She's in his arms now--you devil--you tiger--"

She threw herself down and clung about his knees with hysterical
strength.

"Pierre, you shall not go. Pierre, you walk on my heart if you go!"

He t