He said he could take care of himself. But such men as Dennis
stop at nothing; there will be killing, if M'sieu' stays here."
"You will go back to Dennis?" asked Fleda gently. "Some other woman will
make him happy when he forgets me," was the cheerless, grey reply.
The old man got up and, coming over, laid a hand upon her shoulder.
"Where did you think of going from here?" he asked.
"Anywhere--I don't know," was the reply.
"Is there no work here for her?" he asked, turning to Madame Bulteel.
"Yes, plenty," was the reply. "And room also?" he asked again.
"Was ever a tent too full, when the lost traveller stumbled into camp in
the old days?" rejoined Fleda. The woman trembled to her feet, a glad
look in her eyes. "I ought to go, but I am tired and I will gladly stay,"
she said and swayed against the table.
Madame Bulteel and Fleda put their arms round her, steadying her.
"This is not the way to act," said Fleda with a touch of sharp reproof.
Had she not her own trouble to face?
The stricken woman drew herself up and looked Fleda in the eyes. "I will
find the right way, if I can," she said with courage.
A half-hour later, as the old man sat alone in the room where he had
breakfasted, a rifle-shot rang out in the distance.
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