"Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've got something to tell you."
They crouched behind the bush.
"You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit."
"Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens."
The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out and gripped John Aldous by the arm.
"Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't take offence—because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I saw her up at the train. But you know. Is she good, or—— You know what we think of women who come in here alone. That's why I ask."
"She's what you thought she was, Stevens," replied Aldous. "As pure and as sweet as she looks. The kind we like to fight for."
"I was sure of it, Aldous. That's why I sent the kid for you. I saw her in your cabin—after the outfit went to hell. When I come back to camp, Quade was here. I was pretty well broken up. Didn't talk to him much. But he seen I had lost everything. Then he went on down to your place. He told me that later. But I guessed it soon as he come back. I never see him look like he did then. I'll cut it short. He's mad—loon mad—over that girl. I played the sympathy act, thinkin' of you—an' her. He hinted at some easy money. I let him understand that at the present writin' I'd be willing to take money most any way, and that I didn't have any particular likin' for you. Then it come out. He made me a proposition."
Stevens lowered his voice, and stopped to peer again about the bush.
"Go on," urged Aldous. "We're alone."