essed you felt that way."

The other smiled bitterly.

"No," he said. Then he shifted his position. "I'm afraid there's going
to be trouble. I've thought a heap since Helen told me."

"Trouble--through me?" said Bill, sharply. "Say, there's been nothing
but blundering through me ever since I came here. I'd best pull up
stakes and get out. I'm too big and foolish. I'm the worst blundering
idiot out. I wish I'd shot him up. But," he added plaintively, "I
hadn't got a gun. Say, I'm too foolishly civilized for this country. I
sure best get back to the parlors of the East where I came from."

Charlie shook his head, and his smile was affectionate.

"Best stop around, Bill," he said. "You haven't blundered. You've
acted as--honesty demanded. If there's trouble comes through it, it's
no blame to you. There's no blame to you anyway. You're honest. Maybe
I've cursed you some, but it's me who's wrong--always. Do you get me?
It don't make any difference to my real feelings. You just stop around
all you need, and don't you act different from what you are doing."

Bill stirred his bulk uneasily.

"But this trouble? Say, Charlie, boy," he cried, his big face flushing
painfully, "it don't matter to me a curse what you are. You're my
brother. See? I wouldn't do you a hurt intentionally. I'd--I'd chop my
own fool head off first. Can't anything be done? Can't I do anything
to fix things right?"

The other had turned away. A grave anxiety was written all over his
youthful face.

"Maybe," he said.

"How? Just tell me right now," cried Bill eagerly.

"Why----" Charlie broke off. His pause was one of deep consideration.

"It don't matter what it is, Charlie," cried Bill, suddenly stirred to
a big pitch of enthusiasm. "Just count me on your side, and--and if
you need to have Fyles shot up, why--I'm your man."

Charlie shook his head.

"Don't worry that way," he cried. "Just stop around. You needn't ask a
whole heap of questions. Just stop around, and maybe you can bear a
hand--some day. I shan't ask you to do any dirty work. But if there's
anything an honest man may do--why, I'll ask you--sure."

CHAPTER XXX

THE COMMITTEE DECIDE

The earlier days of summer were passing rapidly. And with their
passage Kate Seton's variations of mood became remarkable. There were
times when her excited cheerfulness astounded her sister, and there
were times when her depression caused her the greatest anxiety. Kate
was displaying a