Pat, pat again sounded the horses' feet. The high places as well as the low bore their frost blanket now, and the dead turf cracked softly with every step. "No, I have not forsaken the customs of my people." "Why then in this instance?" insistently. "At least be consistent, man. Why in this single particular and no other?" The hand on the neck of the cayuse tightened, tightened until the tiny ears of the wicked little beast went flat to its head; then of a sudden the grip loosened. "Why? The answer is simple. The lady who is to be my wife is not an Indian." For an instant Craig was silent, for an instant the full meaning of that confession failed in its appeal; then of a sudden it came over him in a flood of comprehension. Very, very far away now, banished into remotest oblivion, was Pete Sweeney. Into the same grave went any remnants of gratitude to the other man that chanced to remain. Paramount, beckoning him on, one thought, one memory alone possessed his brain: the recollection of that look the other had given him, that look he could never forget nor forgive. "Since you have told me so much," he challenged "you will probably have no objection to telling me the lady's name. Who is it to be?" Silence fell upon them. Far in the distance, so far that had the white man seen he would have thought it a star, a light had come into being. Many a time before the little roan had made this journey. Many a time he had seen that light emerge from the surface of earth. To him it meant all that was good in life: warmth, food, rest. The tiny head shook impatiently, shifted sideways with an almost human question to his rider at the slowness of the pace, the delay. "That light you see there straight ahead is in the ranch house," digressed the Indian. "It is four miles away." Again it was the warning, not a suggestion, but positive this time; and again it passed unheeded. "You have forgotten to answer my question," recalled Craig. Swift as thought the Indian shifted in his seat, shifted half about; then as suddenly he remembered. "No, I have not forgotten," he refuted. "You tell me you have already heard of Bess Landor. It is she I am to marry."