The Hunted Woman | Page 4

They did not

move. The younger man seemed scarcely to breathe.
"Bill's place!" he gasped then. "I've a notion to tell her. I can't
believe----"
"Shucks!" interjected the other.
"But I don't. She isn't that sort. She looked like a Madonna--with the
heart of her clean gone. I never saw anything so white an' so beautiful.
You call me a fool if you want to--I'm goin' on to Bill's!"
He strode ahead, chivalry in his young and palpitating heart. Quickly
the older man was at his side, clutching his arm.
"Come along, you cotton-head!" he cried. "You ain't old enough or big
enough in this camp to mix in with Bill. Besides," he lied, seeing the
wavering light in the youth's eyes, "I know her. She's going to the right
place."
At Bill's place men were holding their breath and staring. They were
not unaccustomed to women. But such a one as this vision that walked
calmly and undisturbed in among them they had never seen. There
were half a dozen lounging there, smoking and listening to the
phonograph, which some one now stopped that they might hear every
word that was spoken. The girl's head was high. She was beginning to
understand that it would have been less embarrassing to have gone
hungry and dusty. But she had come this far, and she was determined to
get what she wanted--if it was to be had. The colour shone a little more
vividly through the pure whiteness of her skin as she faced Bill, leaning
over his little counter. In him she recognized the Brute. It was blazoned
in his face, in the hungry, seeking look of his eyes--in the heavy
pouches and thick crinkles of his neck and cheeks. For once Bill Quade
himself was at a loss.
"I understand that you have rooms for rent," she said unemotionally.
"May I hire one until the train leaves for Tête Jaune Cache?"
The listeners behind her stiffened and leaned forward. One of them

grinned at Quade. This gave him the confidence he needed to offset the
fearless questioning in the blue eyes. None of them noticed a newcomer
in the door. Quade stepped from behind his shelter and faced her.
"This way," he said, and turned to the drawn curtains beyond them.
She followed. As the curtains closed after them a chuckling laugh
broke the silence of the on-looking group. The newcomer in the
doorway emptied the bowl of his pipe, and thrust the pipe into the
breast-pocket of his flannel shirt. He was bareheaded. His hair was
blond, shot a little with gray. He was perhaps thirty-eight, no taller than
the girl herself, slim-waisted, with trim, athletic shoulders. His eyes, as
they rested on the still-fluttering curtains, were a cold and steady gray.
His face was thin and bronzed, his nose a trifle prominent. He was a
man far from handsome, and yet there was something of fascination
and strength about him. He did not belong to the Horde. Yet he might
have been the force behind it, contemptuous of the chuckling group of
rough-visaged men, almost arrogant in his posture as he eyed the
curtains and waited.
What he expected soon came. It was not the usual giggling, the usual
exchange of badinage and coarse jest beyond the closed curtains.
Quade did not come out rubbing his huge hands, his face crinkling with
a sort of exultant satisfaction. The girl preceded him. She flung the
curtains aside and stood there for a moment, her face flaming like fire,
her blue eyes filled with the flash of lightning. She came down the
single step. Quade followed her. He put out a hand.
"Don't take offence, girly," he expostulated. "Look here--ain't it
reasonable to s'pose----"
He got no farther. The man in the door had advanced, placing himself
at the girl's side. His voice was low and unexcited.
"You have made a mistake?" he said.
She took him in at a glance--his clean-cut, strangely attractive face, his
slim build, the clear and steady gray of his eyes.

"Yes, I have made a mistake--a terrible mistake!"
"I tell you it ain't fair to take offence," Quade went on. "Now, look
here----"
In his hand was a roll of bills. The girl did not know that a man could
strike as quickly and with as terrific effect as the gray-eyed stranger
struck then. There was one blow, and Quade went down limply. It was
so sudden that he had her outside before she realized what had
happened.
"I chanced to see you go in," he explained, without a tremor in his
voice. "I thought you were making a mistake. I heard you ask for
shelter. If you will come with me I will take you to a friend's."
"If it isn't too much trouble for