"Since ther fust day I ever seed ye, honey," he declared with a sort of hushed fervour, "standin' up thar in ther winder, my heart hain't nuver struck a beat save ter love ye--an' thet war jest erbout a y'ar ago." "Hit's been all my life, Ken," she protested. "Ther time thet went ahead of thet didn't skeercely count atall." Her voice trembled, and the meeting of their gaze was a caress. Then he said: "When I wedded with ye out thar--under thet old tree--with ther sun shinin' down on us--I swore ter protect ye erginst all harm." "Hain't ye always done thet, Ken?" "Erginst all ther perils I knowed erbout--yes," he answered, slowly, then his tone leaped into vehemence. "But I didn't suspicion--until terday--thet whilst I was away from ye--ye hed ter protect yoreself erginst Bas Rowlett." "Bas Rowlett!" the name broke from her lips with a gasp and a spasmodic heart-clutch of panic. Her well-kept secret stood unveiled! She did not know how it had come about, but she realized that the time of reckoning had come and, if her husband's face was an indication to be trusted, that reckoning belonged to to-day and would be neither diverted nor postponed. Her old fear of what the consequence would be if this revelation came to his knowledge rose chokingly and overpoweringly. Why had she not killed Bas herself before Sim Squires came in to interfere that day? Why had she allowed the moment to pass when a stroke of the blade might have ended the peril? Atavistic impulses and contradictions of her blood welled confusedly up within her. This was her own battle and she wanted to fight it out for herself. If Rowlett were to be executed it should be she herself who sent him to his accounting. She was torn, as she stood there, between her terror for the man she loved and her hatred for the other--a hatred which clamoured for blood appeasement. But she shook her head and sought to resolve the conflicting emotions. "I hid ther truth from ye, Ken," she said, "because I feared fer what mout happen ef ye found out. I wasn't affrighted of Bas fer myself--but I war fer _you_. I knowed ye trusted him an' ef ye diskivered he war a traitor----" "Traitor!" the man interrupted her, passionately, "he hain't never deluded me es ter thet since ther fust night I laid in thet thar bed atter I'd been shot. Him an' me come ter an' understandin' then an' thar--but he swore ter hold his hand twell we could meet man ter man, jest ther two of us." A bitter laugh came with his pause, then he went on: "I 'lowed you trusted him an' I didn't seek ter rouse up no needless fears in yore heart--but now we both knows ther truth, an' I'm startin' out d'reckly ter sottle ther score fer all time." Dorothy Thornton caught his shoulders and her eyes were full of pleading.