“And so you— you followed— after— that!”
It was all she said, and yet the voice, the significance of the choking words, hurt him more than if she had struck him. In them there was none of the passion and condemnation he had expected. Quietly, almost whisperingly uttered, they stung him to the soul. He had meant to say to her what he had said to Deane— even more. But the crudeness of the wilderness had made him slow of tongue, and while his heart cried out for words Isobel turned and went to her husband. And then there came the thing he had been expecting. Down the ridge there raced a flurry of snow and a yelping of dogs. He loosened the revolver in his holster, and stood in readiness when Bucky Smith ran a few paces ahead of his men into the camp. At sight of his enemy’s face, torn between rage and disappointment, all of Billy’s old coolness returned to him.
With a bound Bucky was at Scottie Deane’s side. He looked down at his manacled hands and at the woman who was clasping them in her own, and then he whirled on Billy with the quickness of a cat.
“You’re a liar and a sneak!” he panted. “You’ll answer for this at headquarters. I understand now why you let ’em go back there. It was her! She paid you— paid you in her own way— to free him! But she won’t pay you again—”
At his words Deane had started as if stung by a wasp. Billy saw Isobel’s whitened face. The meaning of Buck’s words had gone home to her as swiftly as a lightning flash, and for an instant her eyes had turned to him! Bucky got no further than those last words. Before he could add another syllable Billy was upon him. His fist shot out— once, twice— and the blows that fell sent Bucky crashing through the fire. Billy did not wait for him to regain his feet. A red light blazed before his eyes. He forgot the presence of Deane and Walker and Conway. His one thought was that the scoundrel he had struck down had flung at Isobel the deadliest insult that a man could offer a woman, and before either Conway or Walker could make a move he was upon Bucky. He did not know how long or how many times he struck, but when at last Conway and Walker succeeded in dragging him away Bucky lay upon his back in the snow, blood gushing from his mouth and nose. Walker ran to him. Panting for breath, Billy turned toward Isobel and Deane. He was almost sobbing. He made no effort to speak. But he saw that the thing he had dreaded was gone. Isobel was looking at him again— and there was the old faith in her eyes. At last— she understood! Dean’s handcuffed hands were clenched. The light of brotherhood shone in his eyes, and where a moment before there had been grief and despair in Billy’s heart there came now a warm glow of joy. Once more they had faith in him!
Walker had raised Bucky to a sitting posture, and was wiping the blood from his face when Billy went to them. The corporal’s hand made a limp move toward his revolver. Billy struck it away and secured the weapon. Then he spoke to Walker.
“There is no doubt in your mind that I hold a sergeancy in the service, is there, Walker?” he asked.
His tone was no longer one of comradeship. In it there was the ring of authority. Walker was quick to understand.
“None, sir!”
“And you are familiar with our laws governing insubordination and conduct unbecoming an officer of the service?”