Already she was tired and longed to go to sleep, but she was afraid to speak her wish. As the silence of the cabin deepened, and the noise of the storm grew louder--blustering at the roof, shaking the door, and beating on the window pane--her uneasiness gave way to stark fear. But all at once she looked up to find Bill's eyes upon her, full of sympathy and understanding. "You'll want to turn in now," he told her. "You take the bunk again, of course--I'll sleep on the floor. I'm comfortable there--I could sleep on rocks if need be." "Can't you get some fir boughs--to-morrow?" The girl spoke nervously. "They'd be in the way, but maybe I can arrange it. And now I've got to fix your boidoir." He took one of the boxes that served as a chair and stood it up on the floor, just in front of her bunk. Then, holding one of the blankets in his arm and a few nails in his hand, he climbed upon the box. She understood in an instant. He was curtaining off the entire end of the cabin where Virginia slept. The girl's relief showed in her face. Her eyes lighted, her apprehension was largely dispelled. She wasn't blind to his thoughtfulness, his quick sympathy; and she felt deeply and speechlessly grateful. And she was also vaguely touched with wonder. "You can go in there now," he told her. "But there's one thing--I want to show you--before you turn in." "Yes?" "I want to show you this little pistol." He took a light arm of blue steel from his belt,--the small-calibered and automatic weapon with which he had gilled the grouse. "It's only a twenty-two," Bill went on, "but it shoots a long cartridge, and it shoots ten of 'em, fast as you pull the trigger. You could kill a caribou with it, if you hit him right." "Yes?" And she wondered at this curious interlude in their moment of parting. "You see this little catch behind the trigger guard?" The girl nodded. "When you want to fire it, all you have to do is to push up the little catch with your thumb and pull the trigger. To-morrow I'm going to teach you how to shoot with it--I mean shoot straight enough to take the head off a grouse at twenty feet. And so it will bring you luck, I want you to sleep with it,--under your pillow." Understanding flashed through her, and a slow, grateful smile played at her lips. "I don't want it, Bill," she told him. "You'd feel safer with it," the man urged. He slipped it under her pillow. "And even before you learn to shoot it well--you could--if you had to--shoot and kill a man." He smiled again and drew her curtain. * * * * * Bill was true to his promise to teach Virginia to shoot. The next day he put up an empty can out from the door of the cabin and they had target practice. First he showed her how to hold the weapon and to stand. "See the can just over the sights and press back gradually," he urged. The first shot went wide of its mark. The second and third were no better. But by watching her closely, Bill found out her mistake.