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Harold shrugged again. "One doesn't marry squaws," he replied. Once more the silence was poignant in the wretched cabin. "I came to find Harold Lounsbury, a gentleman," Bill went on in the same strange, flat voice, "and I find a squaw man." Bill realized at once that this new development did not in the least affect his own duty. His job had been to find Harold and return him to Virginia's arms.
Her eyes, wide with recollection, were fixed upon Lounsbury. "But you passed through cities coming north," argued the storekeeper. "N-n-no," said Dallas, slowly; "we we skirted 'em." "What a pity!" He turned to the section-boss. "Pity!" echoed the latter. "Huh! You save you' pity. My gals is better off ef they don' meet no town hoodlums."
He did a queer and sprightly little dance as he hurried toward the barn to get his horse. Mr. Kenly Lounsbury, addressed affectionately as Uncle by his nephew's fiancee, was in ill humor as he devoured his lunch. In the first place he hadn't been getting the attention that he had expected.
But he couldn't understand the curious weight of depression that descended upon him. "You did?" she answered quickly. "Was he all right then?" "All right, but that was just after he came to the North. I was camping on this side of Grizzly River, and he stayed to eat with me. He said his name was Lounsbury. I've never heard of him since." The surface lights died in her eyes.
"Why, it's a ten-to-one shot the track'll end on your claim." With one accord all looked across the level quarter, where the new green was creeping in after the late rains. "A railroad! An' a town!" The section-boss pulled at his grizzled goatee. "They'll make this piece worth a heap!" "They will," agreed Lounsbury.
When the storekeeper heard it, together with the embellishments it carried by reason of its having so often changed hands, he first gave Fraser a grip to show his gratitude, and then sat back and enjoyed the fun. Fraser, sorely tried by the taunts of his brother-officers, repaid Lounsbury with glances of wounded reproof.
"Charles will keep me posted," answered the evangelist, "and I shall send you any news by the mail sleigh." "Thank you," said Lounsbury, simply. "Good-by." And at the noon mess he was missing. At the shack, the days were numbered slowly, for all their scant hours of light. Sleep consumed most of the time. The rest was taken by the meals, the chores and the effort of keeping warm.
She pulled her hat over her eyes, forbore glancing toward the fort and fought. A thousand times she vowed she would not meet Lounsbury that night. To give herself a better whip-hand, she called up pictures of Marylyn Marylyn, the baby, all dimples and lisping demands for "Dals!"
"No, no, dad," she cautioned in a low voice; "no, no." Lancaster's breast heaved. He swallowed with an effort, and scowled from one to another of the four. David Bond came forward, addressing Lounsbury. "Will you tell me your name?" he asked. "I want to remember you. You are not a soldier. Do you belong at Clark's " "Did y' size him up fer a cow-punch?" broke in Lancaster. "Huh!
The younger girl faced about slowly. "D' you promise?" "Promise?" she repeated. "Yes, I I promise." Dallas knew that the trip to the land-office was impossible unless Lounsbury should chance along which was unlikely, some weeks having passed since his last visit. Undoubtedly were he to come, he would help them. But would her father allow her to ask the storekeeper's aid? Probably not.
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