ed to tell him----"

Hurriedly, in low tones, stammering in her eagerness, she did reveal who
she was, what she had tried to do, and what she hoped to be able to do.

He was instantly alive to her cause with all the sympathy that was in
him--an especially sincere sympathy because as a missionary priest he
was close to the hearts of all the folk of the north country, probing
their affairs with an innocent but vivid interest and striving always to
aid with earnest zeal.

Though Lida had parried his questions at first, protecting her secret,
she was now grateful because he had persisted; his manner and his nature
removed him from the ranks of mere busybodies. A comforting sense arose
from having confided in him.

"In the Tomah I will find young Latisan; I am on my way across the
mountains, mam'selle. He must be awake and himself by now; he must have
gone home. When I tell him the truth he will lift all the trouble from
your shoulders. But till he comes you must be brave. And who knows? You
may be able to smooth the path! If you plead your grandfather's cause up
here, I believe even the great Comas company will listen and be kind.
There are many outside this door who have come down from the drives to
have a bit of fun at the wedding. There must be Flagg men. I will find
out."

"Let me go with you," she urged, anxiously.

He demurred.

"But I'll not speak to them. If I can see them--only a few of them--the
real men of our drive--I believe I shall find courage to go on."

She prevailed, though he was doubtful and warned her that the babbling
of the new gossip might be embarrassing.

And so it proved as Father Leroque feared; men perceived only the
beguilement of Ward Latisan and had heard only the sordid side of the
happenings in Adonia; the girl was glad because she was hid in the gloom
outside the circle of light that was the nimbus of the bonfire. They
were laughing as they discussed a matter which had eclipsed the interest
in the wedding. Her cheeks were hot and she was scarcely restrained by
the priest's monitory palm on her shoulder.

Men were feasting and gossiping; they were herded around the fire,
squatting Turk fashion, steaming pannikins on the ground by their sides,
heaped plates on their knees.

"Fifteen of us," stated a man, answering a question. "And prob'ly more
to follow. Ben Kyle has gone up there in a hurry, grudge and all, and is
hiring for the Comas. If there ain't going to be any fight we ma