"About as much chance, I judge, as I have of being elected President," he replied, gruffly. "And now I want you to know this--If you hadn't troubled your dainty head about my pard, he wouldn't be where he is now. And mind me, if it hadn't been for him, where d'you think you'd be to-day? You'd be wishing you were dead. You'd be doin' scavenger work in a Sioux village, leading a dog's life at the hands of every sooty squaw in the camp--if it hadn't been for Vipan. And now if the Lord works an almighty miracle and I get my pard clear of the red devils, maybe you won't say overmuch to him if you meet him--won't be over-anxious to say you're glad to see him safe and sound again--" The speaker pulled up short, staring blankly at her. She had burst into a wild storm of sobs. "You are unjust. Oh, God! Oh, God! send him back to me!" Then turning to the dumbfoundered scout, and controlling herself to speak firmly: "Listen. If it would save his life I would cheerfully undergo death at this moment. I would suffer the slow fire or anything. Think what you like of me--God knows I speak the truth." "Say that again, miss," stammered the other. "Well, I ask your pardon. I allow I don't know shucks of the ways of women. If it's to be done, my pard'll be brought out. What shall I tell him if so be I find him?" he added, as if struck with a bright idea. "Tell him," and her voice shook with a tenderness she now no longer cared to conceal, "tell him to come straight to me wherever I am. And if--ah, I cannot think of it--I would rather have died with him!" Thus the secret of her tortured heart escaped her in that cry of anguish; not to a sister woman, but to the rough and weather-beaten frontiersman who was piloting her across that grim and peril-haunted wilderness. Again she relapsed into silence, and her escort noted that her tears were falling thick and fast. Suddenly she asked about the attack upon the waggon train. Smokestack Bill felt in a quandary. She had gone through so much already, she still had need of all her strength, all her nerve, before she should reach the distant frontier post to which he was guiding her. What would happen if he were to tell her the horrible news that they two were the sole survivors of the ill-fated caravan; that he owed his escape from the hideous massacre to the same cause as she did her own-- accidental absence? He felt unequal to the task, and evaded the necessity of replying by the invention of a somewhat cowardly pretext, to wit, the imperative advisability of preserving silence as far as possible. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. A RACE FOR--DEATH. When Vipan recovered consciousness he found himself unable to stir. A lariat rope was tightly coiled around him from head to foot, binding his arms to his sides, and rendering him as helpless as a log. He tried to move, but an acute pain shooting through his head seemed to crush him again, and he half closed his eyes, stunned and confused.