“I’m goin’ to see the endin’ o’ this love-talk,” he muttered, as he hurried toward the river. “I’ve never listened to them yit; but I can’t resist the temptation to listen now, for I tell ye somethin’s in the wind, when a young gal goes out with a pistol to meet her lover.” The twilight had faded now, the goddess of night had crept up from the horizon, bathing the trysting-spot and adjacent stream in crystalline light. Mitre St. Pierre crept down the river-bank, toward the giant cottonwood. The shadows that the great trees threw shielded him from observation. The cottonwood stood some distance from its neighbors. * * * * * “So you are here at last, _mon ami_. I feared that you would not obey my request.” There was an unwonted tone to the British major’s voice, and his face wore a deathly pallor in the moonlight. Effie St. Pierre noted all this before she spoke. “Pardon me for mistrusting, as I did, the authenticity of Omatla’s message,” she said. “You spoke of being in trouble, which I could not credit, as you left me so good-spirited this afternoon.” “Ah, Effie, the clouds come sometimes when one thinks them far away--when the sky is one blue field from horizon to horizon. Trouble is oftentimes an unexpected as it is always an unwelcome guest.” “You really are in trouble, then?” “Yes,” and the major looked around to see if the dismissed messenger lingered near. But Omatla was speeding toward his village. “To-day, girl--scarce two hours since--I had an altercation with Firman Campbell. You know him--the commandant’s son. In the midst of his cups--inflamed with liquor--he drank a disrespectful toast to you, and I struck him.” Effie St. Pierre was silent--divining what was coming. “He staggered under the blow,” continued the Briton, “delivered with my open hand, and when he recovered he came at me with a pistol. It was self-defense, then, girl. I drew my weapon, and, to save my own life, took his.” A light cry of horror welled from Effie’s throat. “Oh, why did you kill him, Rudolph?” she cried. “He was but a boy--his father’s favorite, and the pet of the garrison. You could not have disarmed him, and thus kept your hands cleansed of human blood?” “The deed is done, now,” said the major, “and the ball that nestles in his brain can not be recalled. Of course I was arrested and cast into the garrison guard-house, to await my trial. Notwithstanding the fact that I shot the stripling in self-defense, I will be condemned. I will be tried by partial jurors; I feel it; I know it. It is through bribery that I am here to-night, Effie--here to tell you that I love you.” The trader’s _protege_ started back at the word, and the criminal sprung forward and clutched her arm.