“It would have been better if you had let the Indians have their way anyhow. You’ve broken with Whirlwind, a man who is capable of doing you a great deal of harm, for the sake of a man you don’t know.” “Whirlwind never see’d me at all, Dave. But, look yer; I never thort I’d hear Dave Farrell tork in thet way abowt saving a feller white man’s life.” “I was wrong, and I beg your pardon,” said Dave. “Perhaps I am unreasonably jealous, but I thought that Myrtle looked with some favor upon him. If I thought so—” “You’d raise Kain, wouldn’t you? Now don’t be an idjiot, Dave, acause I kain’t stand it. Let’s plant these chunks of kussidness som’ers, and git ’em out of the way.” It did not take long by means of a shovel which Old Pegs brought out of the copse, to dig a shallow grave, in which they laid the two Indians, piling a heap of stones upon the bodies to guard them from the wolves. This done, they went back to the cabin, where they found Myrtle and Rafe Norris seated rather close together, while he was explaining a book which Dave had brought. If the young captain had a fault it was jealousy, and the blood started into his face as he noted the position of the pair. Deeply interested as she was in the explanation, in her eager desire for knowledge, Myrtle did not look up as they came in, and even her father looked a little vexed, for he did not like to see her becoming interested in Rafe Norris. “Oh, Dave!” she cried, looking up at last. “You would be interested in the account which Mr. Norris is giving of the Aleutian Islands. He was there on a voyage not long ago.” “I fear Mr. Farrell does not appreciate my poor endeavors to entertain you, Miss Myrtle,” said Rafe, who interpreted rightly the expression of David Farrell’s face. “But, if you have no objections, we will go on.” “I reckon we’d better postpone the study, jest now,” said Old Pegs. “Dave hez a good ’eal to tell you about his visit to civilization, Myrtle.” “By no means,” replied Dave, taking up his weapons. “While Miss Myrtle is so pleasantly engaged, I can not find it in my heart to interfere.” With these words he hurried out of the cabin before Myrtle could stop him, and Old Pegs started up to follow. When he reached the door, Dave was half-way across the opening, moving on at the long, swinging pace into which a man insensibly falls, who is used to long marches over the prairie. The old hunter hurried after him, calling him by name. “Let him go, the jealous boor,” said Rafe, quickly. “We can dispense with his company easily enough.” “Mr. Norris,” said Myrtle, flushing, “you forget yourself when you call my friends hard names. I am very sorry for what has happened, for no one can be better, braver or more true hearted than the man you call a boor.”