"I know you, Edith, and I know your resolution; but, for all that, I will not go. I am ready to meet death when it comes, for I am one of those that believe the lot of man is foreordered, and no whining or flinching can avail aught; but rest assured I shall not die without a struggle. If you refer to the men of doubtful stamp who are supposed to haunt this region, all I can say is, I am ready for them; though I count on no danger in that direction. I have heard of their doings, and I have heard, too, the name of one who is supposed to exercise a control over their movements. Martin and I were once friends, and I do not think I count in vain, when I reckon on his support in all needed cases. Let this fruitless talk come to an end, and let me, if you will not appoint a more favorable time, come to that of which I would speak."
The man called Charles Endicott grew more in earnest. With a rapidity and ease almost miraculous, he threw himself from his horse. So quick was he, and so graceful, that before the woman fairly knew it, he was standing near and facing her. She shrunk back somewhat, then raised her hand with a proud gesture.
"No nearer, sir, no nearer! Think not I am unprotected because you see me alone."
Endicott stood for a moment gazing silently into the eyes that met his, fair and full, glowing and sparkling under the moonlight. There was no quailing in them; no unsettledness of purpose; they did not fall. He sought to read her soul through them; and all he could see was unflinching resolution. Poor encouragement to proceed was that steady stare; a chill crept along his spine, a shiver went through his brain as he gazed into that face, handsome as a dream, but thin and colorless as chalk. Her eyes dilated; her form, lithe and slender, straightened; the proud gesture grew one of menace, and again her lips opened:
"Yes, sir, I am no unprotected female now. I hold your life in my hands in a dozen ways. Times have altered, sir. We stand on a new stage with new spectators and a new cast of parts. A man more or less, is of but little importance; your corpse, found with face turned upward and dead-set eyes staring ghastly, would create little excitement among the few who might learn of it. Perhaps they might bury it; maybe they would leave that duty to the wolves. Who knows?"
Endicott's face darkened, for the tone of the woman's voice had a disdainful ring that cut into his pride like the needle points of a tattooer. There was sharp pain and an ugly picture left behind. He tried to smile at her earnestness, but it was a very dismal smile, and his courage dropped away down toward zero. Not that he feared death—he only found that he feared the woman!
"Death's-heads and thigh-bones! Run out the black flag if you choose, yet there will many a day pass before I walk the plank. I see no vision of sudden death, feel no premonition of approaching dissolution. Say your say, for you are honest at heart, and when I have listened to you, you will listen to me, I know. And for my corpse—I entreat you to give it a Christian burial, should it be found with a ball in the base of my skull or an underhanded knife-thrust in the small of my back. Danger of that kind though, is I trust far off."
"Laugh if you will at my warning; yet, as you stand there in the full moonlight, you make a fair target; and on my honor you stand this minute covered by more than one weapon of death. You doubt me? Well, I see a rifle-barrel aimed at your head by the hand of a man who never yet missed his mark. I see it gleaming, and a wave of my hand brings the leaden messenger. So go your way; if you remain here five minutes longer, so help me Heaven, I will see you shot down with as little mercy as I would a prowling coyote."
How or exactly where she disappeared, Endicott scarcely knew. A mist appeared to sweep across his eyes, and when the mist rolled away she was gone. He stared a moment blankly before him, with the words of her warning ringing in his ears, and a doubt as to what to do in his heart.
"'Shot as a prowling coyote!' Faith, she is in one of her tragic moods to-night, and I verily believe she would do as she says. She may speak truly too about some one lying in wait; this is a queer region here, and if all accounts be true, a bullet from behind a bush would be no unprecedented thing. I will find my way back to camp as best I can. But how came she here?"