West suddenly wheeled and stood for a moment, rigid with clenched hands, looking at the man. “No, Dave Davis,” he said in his low, firm voice, “I did not save your neck because I even respect you. I would have done as much, or even more, for any old Injun.” Bess met him as he went through the living-room, but he did not look at her as he passed outdoors. She wondered what could be the reason for his looking so sullen as he passed, and knew that it must be the man upstairs. “Come here a moment, dear,” called Mrs. West to her; “I want you to take some breakfast up to Mr. Davis. One of my women is sitting there.” Bess dreaded meeting him, yet she could not refuse to go. She carried the dainty and appetizing food into his room, and entered so softly that the man did not move. She thought he had fallen asleep, when a slight groan told her she was mistaken. “Here is your breakfast, Mr. Davis,” she said cheerily. “Oh, it is you, Miss Fletcher! I had begun to wonder why you did not come to see your patient.” “I do hope you are better this morning, and that you may soon be strong again,” she said, beginning to help him with his meal. “I am afraid this confounded ankle won’t be in any hurry getting well,” he replied bitterly, “and I shall be obliged to force my unwelcome presence here for too long.” “Please don’t say that, Mr. Davis; I am sure you are perfectly welcome here. Mrs. West is only too glad to do all she can to alleviate your pain,” reassured Bess hastily. “Yes, I understand,” he replied, as he sipped his coffee, “but Henry West has some sort of a grudge against me. Guess he thinks that at one time I cared for his sister.” Bess noticed a swift, sneering smile flit across his lips. He continued: “One never knows what to expect from these Indians.” “S—sh,” warned Bess, glancing at the servant. She did not like what he was saying nor the tone of his voice, and as soon as he had finished his breakfast she hurriedly left him. Could the cause of all of Henry’s hatred be the sister whom he had loved so tenderly, she wondered. CHAPTER VIII BESS LEARNS THE REAL CAUSE OF THE ACCIDENT The girl had begun to tidy up the living-room and the pretty library, with its shelves of choice books, when Mrs. West came in to remonstrate. “There are plenty of hands to do those tasks, Miss Bess,” she said, as she held the girl’s hands in her own. “You just go out and enjoy yourself, dear. It is such a pretty day that it is a pity to stay indoors.”