"I'll do my best," said the doctor.

He came to the door, ostensibly to close it, showing a scared face. "I didn't know what was coming," his lips shaped.

Ambrose nodded to him rea.s.suringly, meaning to convey that nothing he had heard would influence his actions.

Giddings closed the door, and Ambrose returned down-stairs with a heart that sunk lower at each step. What he had at first regarded calmly enough as Gaviller's tragedy he now clearly saw was likely to prove tragic for himself.

It was useless to try to put Colina off.

"I must know!" she cried pa.s.sionately. "I'm the head here now. I must know where we all stand."

Ambrose told her. To save her feelings he instinctively softened the harsher features. It did not do his own cause any good later.

"Oh, the wretch!" breathed Colina between set teeth. "I know him! A sneaking little scoundrel! Just the one to shoot from behind! To think we must let him go! That is the hardest."

Ambrose was silent.

"We must get the skin," she went on eagerly. "Giddings can't handle the natives. You do that for me."

"It is too late," said Ambrose grimly. "He is gone with it."

"Gone?" she exclaimed, with raised eyebrows. "How do you know?"

"He came to my camp at dawn," said Ambrose. Honesty compelling him, he added with a touch of defiance; "I gave him my dugout."

Colina shrank from him.

"You helped him get away!" she cried.

"I didn't know what had happened," he said indignantly.

"Of course not!" said Colina, with quick penitence.

But she did not return to him. Presently the frown came back; she began to breathe quickly. "You saw the skin; you must have talked with him. You took his part against father!"

Ambrose had nothing to say. He could have groaned aloud in his helplessness to avert the catastrophe that he saw coming.

It was as if a horrible, black-shrouded shape had stepped between him and Colina.

She, too, was aware of it. For an age-long moment they stared at each other with a kind of chilled terror.

Neither dared speak of what both were thinking.

At last Colina tried to wave the hideous fantom away.

"Ah, we mustn't quarrel now!" she said tremulously. "Couldn't the man be overtaken and the skin recovered?"

"Possibly," admitted Ambrose. "I wouldn't advise it."

Colina, freshly affronted, struggled with her anger.

"Let me explain," said Ambrose. "I agreed to take the skin from him, but on the understanding that out of the price Mr. Gaviller must be paid every cent of what was owing him." His reasonable air suddenly failed him. "Colina," he burst out imploringly, "it was worth more than double what your father offered! That was the trouble! What is a skin to us? I pledge myself to transmit whatever price it brings to your father. Won't that do?"

"Don't say anything more about it," said Colina painfully. "You're right; we mustn't quarrel about a thing like that."

A wretched constraint fell upon them. For the moment the catastrophe had been averted, but both felt it was only for the moment.

They had nothing to say to each other.

Finally Colina moved toward the door.

"I must see if anything is wanted up-stairs," she murmured. "Wait here for me."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE QUARREL.

When Colina returned she said immediately: "Ambrose, can you stay at Fort Enterprise a little while longer?"

His heart leaped up. "As long as I can help you!" he cried.

They looked at each other wistfully. They wanted so much to be friends--but the black shape was still there in the room.

"I'd be glad to have you stay here in the house," said Colina.

Ambrose shook his head. "I'd much better stay in camp."

She acquiesced. "There are three white men here," she went on, "Giddings, Macfarlane the policeman, and Mr. Pringle the missionary.

Each is all right in his way, but--"

"They're all in love with you," suggested Ambrose.

She smiled faintly. "How did you know?"

Ambrose shrugged. "Deduced it."

"You see I cannot take any of them into my confidence."

"Colina!" he said. "If you would only let me--"

"Ah, I want to!" she returned. "If only, only you will not abuse him--wounded and helpless as he is!"

Here was the black shape again.

"I suppose Gordon Strange will run the business," said Ambrose.