Rouletta offered no objection to this proposal; the fellow slipped an arm about her and led her away, meanwhile pouring a confidential murmur into her ear. They had proceeded but a few steps when 'Poleon Doret strode out of the gloom and laid a heavy hand upon the man. "My frien'," he demanded, brusquely, "w'ere you takin' dis lady?" "Eh?" The fellow wheeled sharply. "What's the idea? What is she to you?" "She ain't not'in' to me. But I seen you plenty tams an'--you ain't no good." Rouletta spoke intelligibly for the first time: "I've no place to go--no place to sleep. I'm very--tired." "There you've got it," the girl's self-appointed protector grinned. "Well, I happen to have room for her in my tent." As Doret's fingers sank deeper into his flesh the man's anger rose; he undertook to shake off the unwelcome grasp. "You leggo! You mind your own business--" "Dis goin' be my biznesse," 'Poleon announced. "Dere's somet'ing fonny 'bout dis--" "Don't get funny with me. I got as much right to her as you have--" 'Poleon jerked the man off his feet, then flung him aside as if he were unclean. His voice was hoarse with disgust when he cried: "Get out! Beat it! By Gar! You ain't fit for touch decent gal. You spik wit' her again, I tear you in two piece!" Turning to Rouletta he said, "Mam'selle, you lookin' for your papa, eh?" Miss Kirby was clasping and unclasping her fingers, her face was strained, her response came in a mutter so low that 'Poleon barely caught it: "Danny's gone--gone--Dad, he's--No use fighting it--It's the drink--and there's nothing I can do." It was 'Poleon's turn to take the girl by the shoulders and wheel her about for a better look at her face. A moment later he led her back into the saloon. She was so oddly obedient, so docile, so unquestioning, that he realized something was greatly amiss. He laid his hand against her flushed cheek and found it to be burning hot, whereupon he hastily consulted the nearest bystanders. They agreed with him that the girl was indeed ill--more than that, she was half delirious. "Sacre! Wat's she doin' roun' a saloon lak dis?" he indignantly demanded. "How come she's gettin' up biffore daylight, eh?" It was the bartender who made plain the facts: "She 'ain't been to bed at all, Frenchy. She's been up all night, ridin' herd on old Sam Kirby. He's drinkin', understand? He tried to get some place for her to stay, along about midnight, but there wasn't any. She's been settin' there alongside of the stove for the last few hours and I been sort of keepin' an eye on her for Sam's sake." Doret breathed an oath. "Dat's nice fader she's got! I wish I let 'im drown." "Oh, he ain't exactly to blame. He's on a bender--like to of killed a feller in here. Somebody'd ought to take care of this girl till he sobers up."