Ladd rose and came over to him. Hal was seated and the other bent down over him: "Now, you're no fool, Calthorpe; you know that you've done a wild, reckless, impossible thing, and you also know that you can't get away with it," and the smooth, cool, even manner gave place to the aggressive attitude of the bully who felt secure in his position. "Now, after what happened at the powwow over at the Agency, no one State is big enough for you and me."
"Yes," assented Hal complacently, "I've realized that you and I were a bit crowded."
"You're in wrong this time, Calthorpe, and I've got you where I want you," and Ladd chuckled over the prospect.
In the cold light of day and in the scrutiny of second thought and under hostile criticism, Hal had a sickening sense that his act was crazy, quixotic, indefensible, and yet what could he have done otherwise? Could he as a man have left this woman he loved to be hounded into self-destruction or dishonor? She had called to him in her desperation. Could he have turned a deaf ear to that cry? He had as usual acted on impulse. Having at very great risk effected her rescue, was he to face the ultimate and inevitable and hand her back to these wolves? It was inconceivable. One step involved another. He must go on, trusting to chance, a perilous trust.
"What is the idea?" asked Ladd with sarcastic tolerance. "The Government, the Army, and the American nation is behind me."
Hal knew that this was too true.
"I am responsible to the Government and the people for this girl. And you come over and take her away from me by force."
"Because you have betrayed your trust."
"I was in the very act of affording her protection from the man of whom she complained when you stole her. Well, what are you going to do with her now that you've got her?"
Hal did not quail under Ladd's merciless gaze, but inwardly he writhed.