"See here, miss," went on the scout. "Vipan and I have hunted and trapped and prospected together and stood off the reds a goodish number of years. We are pardners, we are, and if he entrusts me with an undertaking of this kind, I've got to see it through. Same thing with him. So the sooner we reach Fort Vigilance, where I'm going to take you, and you're safe among the people there, the sooner I shall be able to double back and try what can be done for Vipan." "Oh, I never thought of that. Pray do not let us lose a moment." "So. That's reasonable. You see, miss, it's this way. Women are terrible dead-weights when it comes to fightin' Indians. The varmints'll risk more for a white woman than for all the scalps and plunder in this Territory rolled together. No. Like enough, now that you're snug away, they'll turn round and give up my pard as `bad medicine.' I reckon there ain't a man between Texas and the British line knows Indians better than my pardner. One day he's fighting 'em, another day he's smokin' in their lodges. He knows 'em, he does." With this she was forced to be content. Loyalty to his friend thus moved him to reassure her, but, as a matter of fact, the honest scout felt rather bitter towards this girl. He blamed her entirely for his comrade's peril. He had narrowly watched that comrade of late, and accurately gauged the state of the latter's feelings. Why had this fine lady come out there and played the fool with his comrade--the man with whom he had hunted and trapped for years--with whom he had fought shoulder to shoulder in many a fierce scrimmage with white or red enemies? They had stood by each other through thick and thin, and now this English girl had come in the way, and to satisfy her vanity had sent Vipan to his death--his death, possibly, amid the ghastly torments of the Indian stake. She would probably go home again and brag of her "conquest" with a kind of patronising pity. In silence they kept on their way--the scout's watchful glance ever on the alert. Suddenly his companion's voice aroused him from the intensity of his vigilance. He started. "Tell me," she said. "What chance is there of rescuing your friend?" Her tone was so calm, so self-possessed, that in spite of the deathly pallor of her face it deceived the worthy scout. He felt hard as iron towards her.