CHAPTER VI.
As the party entered, every one of the men who had been playing cards stood up, and it did not require a whispered command from Shoshone Pete to make them remove their hats.
They all stood in line with their hats in their hands and bowing low and respectfully as Snakes directed them to the stairway, following them himself obsequiously, for Muriel’s commanding presence, and Dora’s touching beauty, completely overpowered him. As they neared the stairs, Dora turned to the three men standing in a line, asking:
“Have you seen Bennie? He’s been gone away so long. Have any of you seen him?”
John drew Dora along unresistingly, as she was gentle and obedient, and they went up the rickety stairs with Duffy.
“Poor little gal!” said Shoshone Pete, with a suspicious moisture in his eyes. “She is away off. Let’s keep quiet, boys; for even the Indians hold such as she sacred.”
This was a tense moment for the three men. They silently gathered up the cards, and were about to leave the place, when there was a well-known shout, outside, of: “Who-hoo! Hallo!”
“It’s the Angel!” cried Shoshone, while the three began to dust their boots rapidly with their wide sombreros, and then they all awaited her arrival.
Helen Pierson it was, who now made her appearance with a lithe and active bound down from the rocks beyond. She wore a short corduroy skirt, leather leggings, a wide sombrero, and had around her waist a cartridge-belt with a pistol, and in her hand she carried a small, but deadly, repeating-rifle.
How different she was from the poor, besotted wretch whom Morris Goldberg had taught that it is never too late to mend, and had sent West to begin life over again. Now her eyes were bright, her cheeks red, and health spoke in every motion. All the boys stood at “attention,” smiling broadly, and waiting for her to speak. This she did, saying, blithely: