Riders of the Plains." Val had his eyes on the half-breed, and a look of
understanding passed between them. While Val and his father and sister
were saying their farewells in few words, but with homely demonstrations,
Sergeant Tom brought his horse round and mounted it. Inspector Jules
gave the word to move on. As they started, Gellatly, who fell behind the
others slightly, leaned down and whispered: "Forgive me, Jen. You did
a noble act for me, and the life of me would prove to you that I'm
grateful. It's sorry, sorry I am. But I'll do what I can for Val,
as sure as the heart's in me. Good-bye, Jen."

She looked up with a faint hope in her eyes. "Goodbye!" she said.
"I believe you . . . Good-bye!"

In a few minutes there was only a cloud of dust on the prairie to tell
where the Law and its quarry were. And of those left behind, one was a
broken-spirited old man with sorrow melting away the sinister look in his
face; one, a girl hovering between the tempest of bitterness and a storm
of self-reproach; and one a half-breed gambler, who again sat on the bar-
counter smoking a cigarette and singing to himself, as indolently as if
he were not in the presence of a painful drama of life, perhaps a
tragedy. But was the song so pointless to the occasion, after all, and
was the man so abstracted and indifferent as he seemed? For thus the
song ran:

"Oh, the bird in a cage and the bird on a tree
Voila! 'tis a different fear!
The maiden weeps and she bends the knee
Oh, the sweet Saint Gabrielle hear!
But the bird in a cage has a friend in the tree,
And the maiden she dries her tear: