"I was afraid," Glen confessed in a low voice.
"Afraid! Of what?"
"Of what you might do to Curly."
For an instant Reynolds stared at the girl. Could it be possible that she was concerned about the villain's welfare?
"And you thought I might kill him?" he asked.
"Yes; that was it."
"But he deserves to be killed after doing such a contemptible thing. Why, it is as bad as the Huns would do, and you know what we did to them."
"But that was war," Glen reminded. "If you shot an enemy over there, you were not considered a murderer, and condemned to death, were you?"
"No, certainly not," Reynolds emphatically replied, as the meaning of the girl's words dawned upon his mind. "And so you kept silent for my sake?" he asked. "Were you afraid that I might do something desperate to Curly, and become a murderer?"
"Yes, I was," and Glen lifted her shining eyes to his.