whispered, in a broken voice; "it's only the dead they want. Promise
me--swear to me, if I'm caught, or hung, or shot, you won't let me be
left here to be torn and--ah! my God! what's that?"

She had thrown her arms around his knees, completely pinioning him to
her frantic breast. Something like a smile of disdain passed across his
face as he answered, "It's nothing. They will not return. Get up!"

Even in her terror she saw the change in his face. "I know, I know!"
she cried. "I'm frightened--but I cannot bear it any longer. Hear me!
Listen! Listen--but don't move! I didn't mean to kill Curson--no! I
swear to God, no! I didn't mean to kill the sheriff--and I didn't. I was
only bragging--do you hear? I lied! I lied--don't move, I swear to God I
lied. I've made myself out worse than I was. I have. Only don't leave
me now--and if I die--and it's not far off, may be--get me away from
here--and from THEM. Swear it!"

"All right," said the young man, with a scarcely concealed movement of
irritation. "But get up now, and go back to the cabin."

"No; not THERE alone." Nevertheless, he quietly but firmly released
himself.

"I will stay here," he replied. "I would have been nearer to you, but
I thought it better for your safety that my camp-fire should be further
off. But I can build it here, and that will keep the coyotes off."

"Let me stay with you--beside you," she said imploringly.

She looked so broken, crushed, and spiritless, so unlike the woman of