My eyes softened as I gazed at her, her head held proudly erect, every nerve alert, her eyes steadfast and clear. Against the log wall a few yards away, Kirby strained at his blanket bonds, and had at last succeeded in lifting himself up far enough so as to stare about the room. There was none of the ordinary calm of the gambler about the fellow now—all the pitiless hate, and love of revenge which belonged to his wild Indian blood blazed in his eyes. He glared at me in sudden, impotent rage.
"You think you've got me, do you?" he cried, scowling across; then an ugly grin distorted his thin lips. "Not yet you haven't, you soldier dog. I've got some cards left to play in this game, you young fool. What did you butt in for anyway? This was none of your affair. Damn you, Knox, do you know who she is? I mean that white-faced chit over there—do you know who she is? You think you are going to get her away from me? Well, you are not—she's my wife; do you hear?—my wife! I've got the papers, damn you! She's mine!—mine; and I am going to have her long after you're dead—yes, and the whole damn Beaucaire property with her. By God! you talk about fighting—why there are fifty Indians out there. Wait till they find out what has happened to me. Oh, I'll watch you die at the stake, you sneaking white cur, and spit in your face!"
"Kirby," I said sternly, but quietly, stepping directly across toward him, "I've heard what you said, and that is enough. You are a prisoner, and helpless, but I am going to tell you now to hold your tongue. Otherwise you will never see me at the stake, because I shall blow your brains out where you lie. One more word, and I am going to rid this world of its lowest specimen of a human being."
"You dare not do—"
"And why not? You promise me death either way; what have I to lose then by sending you first? It will rid the girl of you, and that means something to me—and her. Just try me, and see."
He must have read the grim meaning in my face, for he fell back against the log, muttering incoherently, his dark eyes wells of hate, his face a picture of malignancy, but utterly helpless—the lurking coward in him, unable to face my threat. I left him and stooped above her.
"We shall be busy presently; the delay cannot be much longer. I am afraid that fellow may succeed somehow in doing us harm. He is crazed enough to attempt anything. May I trust you to guard him?"
Her eyes, absolutely fearless and direct, looked straight up into mine.
"Yes, he will make no movement I shall not see. Tell me; do you believe there is hope?"
"God knows. We shall do our best. If the worst comes—what?"