There was determination in the voice of the little man, and his daughter kissed him at the same time that Dwight Wade was patting his shoulder.
Wade ran along by the side of the horse for a little way, and, when he turned, eagerly kissed Nina Ide’s gloved hand.
“God bless you for a little saint!” he gasped. “You’ll understand this some day, perhaps.”
“I understand that she is alone and needs a friend,” she responded—“just as you needed a friend when you were only Britt’s ‘chaney man.’” She smiled archly at him and passed out of sight, old Christopher tugging at the bits of the horse.
Wade went back in the forefront of the thronging crew of the men for Enchanted.
“As I said, Britt, I don’t want trouble,” repeated Rodburd Ide, “but you’ll please remember that the lower corner of your township is here at Durfy’s camp. I reckon the men for the Enchanted will camp right here on the trail for a few hours. The man that tries to push past to trouble my daughter or her friend will get hurt.”
“They are goin’ past just the same!” shouted Britt, fiercely.
“My God, Pulaski, think of consequences!” pleaded “Stumpage John,” in low tones. He arose with difficulty and staggered to Britt’s side. His tones quavered with weakness. “I’d be ruined by the story of what it was all about. I’m sick. I only want to get home. I don’t want to see trouble here.”
Britt glared at his associate, at Wade, Ide, and at last at Colin MacLeod, who was staring in the direction of Nina Ide.
The tyrant snorted his disgust.