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It was wonderful, your saving me." She followed the other's graceful motion as she placed her burden on the table, and in doing so gazed squarely at a photograph of Roy Glenister. "Oh !" Helen exclaimed, then paused as it flashed over her who this girl was. She looked at her quickly. Yes, probably men would consider the woman beautiful, with that smile.
It's just as well that you don't." "I am sure Mr. Glenister would not talk of me." There was a pause. "Who is Miss Malotte?" He studied for a moment, while she watched him. What a splendid figure he made in his evening clothes! The cosey room with its shaded lights enhanced his size and strength and rugged outlines. In his eyes was that admiration which women live for.
"We don't question your loyalty, Mr. Glenister, but we didn't ask you to this meeting because we know your attitude perhaps I'd better say sentiment regarding Judge Stillman's niece er family. It has come to us from various sources that you have been affected to the prejudice of your own and your partner's interest. Now, there isn't going to be any sentiment in the affairs of the Vigilantes.
The case-keeper passed a shaking hand over her face, and when it came away she saw blood on her fingers where she had sunk her teeth into her lower lip. Glenister did not rise. He sat, heavy-browed and sullen, his jaw thrust forward, his hair low upon his forehead, his eyes bloodshot and dead. "I'll sit the hand out if you'll let me bet the 'finger," said he. "Certainly," replied the dealer.
He had beaten better men, and he reasoned that if it came to a physical test in these cramped quarters his own great weight would more than offset any superior agility the miner might possess. The longer he looked the more he yielded to his hatred of the man before him, and the more cruelly he longed to satisfy it. "Take off your coat," said Glenister. "Now turn around. All right!
At sight of the naked weapons there was confusion, wherein the commands of the deputies mingled with the shrieks of the women, the crash of overturned chairs, and the sound of tramping feet, as the crowd divided before Glenister and swept back against the wall in the same ominous way that a crowd in the street had once divided on the morning of Helen's arrival.
"The handsomest woman in the North," Struve had said. She raised her eyes to the glass and made a mouth at the petulant, tired reflection there. She pictured Glenister leaping from floe to floe with the hungry river surging and snapping at his feet, while the cheers of the crowd on shore gave heart to the girl crouching out there.
This compartment had been fitted up for the warm storage of perishable goods during the cold weather, and, being without windows, made an ideal place for clandestine gatherings. Glenister was astonished to find every man of the organization present, including Dextry, whom he supposed to have gone home an hour since.
No one, from Dawson down, had seen the Bronco Kid as he looked to- night. "No. I'm not sick," he answered, in a cracked voice. Then the girl laughed harshly. "Do YOU love that girl, too? Why, she's got every man in town crazy." She wrung her hands, which is a bad sign in a capable person, and as Glenister crossed the floor below in her sight she said, "Ah-h- -I could kill him for that!"
"Oh, your manners are good enough as they lay," interrupted the other. "You never did eat with your knife." "I don't believe in hara-kiri," Glenister laughed. "No, when it comes to intimacies with decorum, you're right on the job along with any of them Easterners. I watched you close at them 'Frisco hotels last winter, and, say you know as much as a horse.
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