When the town was lost to sight and their horses had dropped to a walk on the sandy road which stretched to the horizon, Essie turned in her saddle and looked behind her. "I wish we were never going back!" she said impulsively. "I hate it all! I wish we were going on and on--anywhere--but back--don't you?" His eyes were upon her as she spoke, and he had no notion how they softened, while her color rose at something in his voice as he answered-- "I can imagine worse things in life than riding 'on and on' with Essie Tisdale. But"--his tone took on a new and vigorous inflection--"I want to go back. I want to stay. As a matter of fact I'm just getting interested in Crowheart." She looked at him questioningly and then explained-- "It couldn't be, of course; I was only wishing, but you don't understand quite--about things." He spoke promptly-- "I think I do--far better than you believe--and I've about made up my mind to take a hand myself. I cannot well be less chivalrous, less loyal than you." She looked puzzled, but he did not explain that he had overheard her valiant defence of himself to old Edouard Dubois. "You're not vindictive, are you?" She shook her head. "I think not, but I am what is just as bad, perhaps--terribly unforgiving." "Even your beloved Stevenson was not too meek," he reminded her. "Do you remember his essay 'Ordered South'?" She nodded. "If I am quoting correctly, he says in speaking of a man's duties: 'He, as a living man, has some to help, some to love, some to correct; it may be, some to punish.' And," he was speaking to himself now rather than to her, "the spirit of retaliation is strong within me." She answered, "They've been very unjust to you, but I did not think you'd noticed." He laughed aloud. "To me? Do you think I'd trouble myself for anything they might say or do to me?" Her eyes widened-- "You don't mean because of----" "You? Exactly. Aren't we friends--the best of friends--Essie Tisdale?" The quick tears filled her eyes. "Sometimes," she answered chokingly, "I think you are my only friend." She continued, "And that's the reason I want you to be careful. Don't resent anything on my account----" "That's the privilege of friendship," he answered with a reassuring smile. "But why be careful--of whom?" There was some curtness in his voice. "Symes?" "Yes--of Symes." "And why Symes?" "You must remember that you are in a country where the people are poor and struggling. Money is power, and influence, and friends. He has all, and we have neither. I appreciate your reasons, and am more grateful than I can tell you, but you would only hurt yourself, and Andy P. Symes cannot be--reached; is that the word?" Van Lennop's lips twitched ever so slightly and he turned his head away that she might not see the betraying twinkle which he felt was in his eyes. When his face was quite grave again, he replied--