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where he lives," responded Roger.
"Still, I'll take it."
"And Roger, wait a minute," added
the farmer, and he went out to the
shed and returned with a long, stout
pair of bear-skin leggings. "Here you
are for comfort," he said. "They are
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P gaudy attire."
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Roger to the door and stood there
while he mounted his horse. She,
too, stood at the window looking
after him till he was out of sight
Was he mistaken, or did she really
lift her hands to her lips, as if send
ing after him a good luck kiss?
Roger loved Gladys Alden. She had
many suitors and he was nt entirely
sure of his ground. Since he had an
nounced his present journey, how
ever, Roger had fancied a new depth
of expression to her sweet eyes.
It seemed that a month before
while out for a gallop, Gladys had
left her favorite horse beside the trail
to gather some wild flowers. When
she returned he was gone. Wandered
off or stolen, nothing was heard of
the misBing steed until about three
weeks later. A reward of one hun
dred dollars had been offered for the
return of the horse. Vaka had ap
peared, but bareback. He had "for
gotten" the saddle, he said. In one
of its pockets Gladys had placed a
small hand bag. It contained some
valued trinkets, once belonging to her
dead mother. She had mourned their
loss. Hence the chivalric assay of
Roger, looking to their "restitution.
Roger found his calculation as to a
speedy journey at fault. The trail
was forty inches under snow, the ra
vines clogged, the horse worn out
before half the journey was accom
plished. On the evening of the sec
ond day, however, he arrived weary
and half frozen at the wretched dug
out that Vaka called home. His
squaw with her five children greeted
him. Roger made out that he was
at the right place, but the Indian
woman could not speak English. She
I made a motion as if intent on going
for a neighbor to act as interpreter.
About to depart, her eyes glittered,
her breath came rapidly, she stared
hard at the leggings which Roger
wore. Then, a lowering expression f
on her dusky face, she left the hut.
Roger was so exhausted that he
threw himself on a pile of skins to
recuperate while the woman waso.
away. Before "he realized it drowsi- i
ness overcame him. He was aroused:
by finding himself pounced upon vig-v
orously. The squaw had lurked out-t
side the hut; had stealthily returned,
had bound him hand and foot and he
lay helpless, in deadly peril of his?
life.
"You kill Vaka'" she shrieked
frenzied, and she pointed at the leg-'
gings and poised a knife ready tol
plunge it into -his vitals.
"No! no!" asserted Roger strenu-,
ously, comprehending her dark sus
picions "alive! Pocket pocket!" .
The squaw half understood him.,
She groped past his helpless hands
and drew from his breast pocket a
wallet. She scanned Its contents.
Then, snatching from among the pa
pers it contained the phtograph of
Vaka, she stood regarding it with dis
tended eyes. ,
"I kill her!" she screamed In a wild
frenzy, drawing the knife in her hand
through the smiling face of the wom
an in the picture. i
To revenge wild jealousy had suc
ceeded. The squaw ran from the
hut to briefly return with a neighbor"
who could act as Interpreter. Roger
truthfully delineated the situation,
but Vaka's wife was insistent on go-
ing in quest of her strayed spouse.
The determined squaw was the
companion of Roger, mounted on her
Indian pony, back to the town. She
had located the missing saddle among
some trappings and the little hand
bag had its original contents intact.
The gratitude expressed in the eyes
of Gladys was sufficient reward for
all Roger had done. When he told
of his narrow graze of death, how-
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