patrol, and his chances,--well, you know them, the Riders of the Plains.
But Val, I think will have luck, and get into Montana before they can
stop him. I hope; yes."

"If I could do anything, Pierre! Can't we--"

The half-breed interrupted: "No, we can't do anything, Galbraith. I have
done all. The ranchman knows me. He will keep his word, by the Great
Heaven!" It would seem as if Pierre had reasons for relying on the
ranchman other than ordinary prairie courtesy to law-breakers.

"Pierre, tell me the whole story over, slow and plain. It don't seem
nateral to think of it; but if you go over it again, perhaps I can get
the thing more reas'nable in my mind. No, it ain't nateral to me,
Pierre--our Val running away." The old man leaned forward and put his
elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

"Eh, well, it was an Injin. So much. It was in self-defence--a little,
but of course to prove that. There is the difficulty. You see, they
were all drinking, and the Injin--he was a chief---proposed--he proposed
that Val should sell him his sister, Jen Galbraith, to be the chief's
squaw. He would give him a cayuse. Val's blood came up quick--quite
quick. You know Val. He said between his teeth: 'Look out, Snow Devil,
you Injin dog, or I'll have your heart. Do you think a white girl is
like a redskin woman, to be sold as you sell your wives and daughters to
the squaw-men and white loafers, you reptile?' Then the Injin said an
ugly word about Val's sister, and Val shot him dead like lightning....
Yes, that is good to swear, Galbraith. You are not the only one that
curses the law in this world. It is not Justice that fills the gaols,
but Law."