“I beg your pardon for coming up like an eavesdropper,” he apologized.  “I thought you would just about be at breakfast, Mrs. Otto.”

The Scotchwoman heaved a tremendous sigh of relief.

“Goodness gracious, but I’m glad to see you!” she exclaimed thankfully.  “Jack and Bruce have just gone out to see if they could find your dead body!”

“We thought perhaps something might have happened,” said Joanne, who had moved nearer the door.  “You will excuse me, won’t you, while I finish my hair?”

Without waiting for him to answer, she ran into the tent.  No sooner had she disappeared than the good-natured smile left Mrs. Otto’s face.  There was a note of alarm in her low voice as she whispered: 

“Jack and Bruce went to the barn last night, and she slept with me.  She tried to be quiet, but I know she didn’t sleep much.  And she cried.  I couldn’t hear her, but the pillow was wet.  Once my hand touched her cheek, and it was wet.  I didn’t ask any questions.  This morning, at breakfast, she told us everything that happened, all about Quade—­and your trouble.  She told us about Quade looking in at the window, and she was so nervous thinking something might have happened to you last night that the poor dear couldn’t even drink her coffee until Jack and Bruce went out to hunt for you.  But I don’t think that was why she cried!”

“I wish it had been,” said Aldous.  “It makes me happy to think she was worried about—­me.”

“Good Lord!” gasped Mrs. Otto.

He looked for a moment into the slow-growing amazement and understanding in her kind eyes.

“You will keep my little secret, won’t you, Mrs. Otto?” he asked.  “Probably you’ll think it’s queer.  I’ve only known her a day.  But I feel—­like that.  Somehow I feel that in telling this to you I am confiding in a mother, or a sister.  I want you to understand why I’m going on to Tete Jaune with her.  That is why she was crying—­because of the dread of something up there.  I’m going with her.  She shouldn’t go alone.”

Voices interrupted them, and they turned to find that Jack and Bruce Otto had come out of the bush and were quite near.  Aldous was sorry that Joanne had spoken of his trouble with Quade.  He did not want to discuss the situation, or waste time in listening to further advice.  He was anxious to be alone again with Joanne, and tell her what he had learned from Peter Keller.  For half an hour he repressed his uneasiness.  The brothers then went on to their corral.  A few minutes later Joanne was once more at his side, and they were walking slowly over the trail that led to the cabin on the river.

He could see that the night had made a change in her.  There were circles under her eyes which were not there yesterday.  When she looked at him their velvety blue depths betrayed something which he knew she was struggling desperately to keep from him.  It was not altogether fear.  It was more a betrayal of pain—­a torment of the soul and not of the body.  He noticed that in spite of the vivid colouring of her lips her face was strangely pale.  The beautiful flush that had come into it when she first saw him was gone.