"She told you that you ought to be ashamed to pack a horse like that.

Three hundred pounds, Pete Mullendore! You haven't any feeling for a horse."

"Killed Old Blue and left him on the trail. My, but you're gittin'

growed up fast. Ain't you got a kiss for Pete?"

She leaned closer.

"Would you do something for me if I kissed you--if Katie Prentice kissed you, Pete Mullendore?"

She repeated her words, speaking in a whisper, with careful distinctness.

"Will you tell Katie something that she wants to know, if she kisses you, Pete Mullendore?"

"Goin' to take you back to the mountings next trip--learn you to tan hides good--with ashes and deer brains--all--same--squaw--make good squaw out o' you--Katie--break your spirit first--you brat--lick you till I break your heart."

Katie's hands clenched.

"My mother wouldn't let me go with you!"

A shadowy cunning crossed his face.

"You'll go, when I say so. I got the whip-hand o' Jezebel."

"You're bragging, Pete Mullendore. My mother's not afraid of you."

"Jest a line on a postal--ud bring the Old Man on a special. You're more afraid of the Old Man than you are of dyin'--ain't it the truth, Isabelle?" he mumbled.

"You're only talking to hear yourself--you wouldn't know where to write.

You've forgotten the name of the town where the 'Old Man' lives. You can't remember at all, can you, Pete?"

A frown lined his forehead while she waited with parted lips, afraid to move lest she start him rambling elsewhere again.

"You couldn't say the name of the town where Katie Prentice's father lives!"

Bending over him, rigid, tense, it seemed as though she would draw the answer from him through sheer will power.

He rolled his head fretfully to and fro, looking into her eyes with dilated pupils that burned in yellow bloodshot eyeb.a.l.l.s. The wind rattled loose wagon bolts and scattered the ashes on the hearth in a puff, while Kate with a thumping heart waited for a response.

"_Think!_" she urged. "Say it out loud, Mullendore--the name of the town you'd put on the postal if you were going to write to the 'Old Man.'"

His lips moved to speak, and then somewhat as if the habit of secrecy a.s.serted itself even in his delirium, he checked himself with an expression of obstinacy on his face.

Kate's hand crept to his shoulder and clutched it tight.

"Tell me, Pete!" She shook him hard. "Say it--quick!"

He muttered thickly:

"What for?"

"You're a liar, Pete Mullendore!" she taunted. "You don't know. You haven't any idea where Katie Prentice's father lives!"

The gibe brought no response; yet slowly, so gradually that it was not possible to tell when it began, a look that was wholly rational came into his eyes. He blinked, touched his dry lips with his dry tongue and, turning his head, recognized her without surprise.

"Git me a drink."

She held a dipper to his lips.

He fixed his eyes upon her face.

"I been sick?"

"Spotted fever."

He stirred slightly.

"What's this?" A weak astonishment was in his voice as he felt a rope across his arms and chest.

"To keep you in bed."

"I been--loony?"

She nodded.

He looked at her quizzically.

"Emptied my sack?"

"You've talked."

He lay motionless, staring at her fixedly; then, as if arriving at a conclusion:

"Guess I didn't say much."

"You said plenty," significantly.

"But not enough, eh?" he jeered.

She regarded him silently.

"Where am I, anyhow?"

"In my camp."

"Oh." He considered a moment, then mocked, "Got religion?"

"Not yet," curtly.

"Jest wanted me close? Ol' friends are the best friends--ain't they?" He grinned weakly at her.