"It is all different, of course, from the country in which I have been living, and it _is_ lonely, but I could get used to it soon if it were not for this pall--" Here the girl rose and went to the open window. She leaned on the sill and looked out. The man's gaze followed her. She was even more attractive than usual, in a house dress of light color, her arms bare to the elbows, and her pale, expressive face limned against the black background of the night. "I know what you would say," replied the man. "It would be bearable here--in fact, it might be enjoyable were it not for the black shadow upon us. Rather it is a shadow which is blood-red instead of black." His voice rose, and excitement glowed in his deep-set, clear gray eyes. His face lost its pallor, and his well-shaped, yet strong hands clutched nervously at the arms of his chair. The girl turned toward him soothingly, when both paused and listened. "It is some Indian going by," said the man, as hoof-beats became distinct. "The Indians don't ride this late. Besides, no Indian would stop here." The man stepped to an adjoining room. As he disappeared, there came the sound of footfalls on the porch and Bill Talpers's heavy knock made the front door panels shake. The girl hesitated a moment, and then opened the door. The trader walked in without invitation, his new boots squeaking noisily. If he had expected any exhibition of fear on the part of the girl, Talpers was mistaken. She looked at him calmly, and Bill shifted uneasily from one foot to another as he took off his hat. "I thought I'd drop in for a little social call, seein' as you ain't called on me sence our talk about that letter," said Bill, seating himself at the table. "It was what I might have expected," replied the girl. "That's fine," said Bill amiably. "I'm tickled to know that you expected me." "Yes, knowing what a coward you are, I thought you would come." Talpers flushed angrily, and then grinned, until his alkali-cracked lips glistened in the lamplight. "That's the spirit!" he exclaimed. "I never seen a more spunky woman, and that's the kind I like. But there ain't many humans that can call me a coward. I guess you don't know how many notches I've got on the handle of this forty-five, do you?" he asked, touching the gun that swung in a holster at his hip under his coat. "Well, there's three notches on there, and that don't count an Injun I got in a fair fight. I don't count any _coups_ unless they're on white folks." "I'm not interested in your record of bloodshed." The girl's voice was low, but it stung Bill to anger.