“I’m not inquiring into your personal affairs,” reminded Alan.  “It’s your own business.”

“That’s the trouble,” protested Stampede.  “It’s not my business.  It’s yours.  If I’d guessed the truth before we hit the Range, everything would have been different.  I’d have rid myself of her some way.  But I didn’t find out what she was until this evening, when I returned Keok’s music machine to their cabin.  I’ve been trying to make up my mind what to do ever since.  If she was only making her get-away from the States, a pickpocket, a coiner, somebody’s bunco pigeon chased by the police—­almost anything—­we could forgive her.  Even if she’d shot up somebody—­” He made a gesture of despair.  “But she didn’t.  She’s worse than that!”

He leaned a little nearer to Alan.

“She’s one of John Graham’s tools sent up here to sneak and spy on you,” he finished desperately.  “I’m sorry—­but I’ve got the proof.”

His hand crept over the top of the table; slowly the closed palm opened, and when he drew it back, a crumpled paper lay between them.  “Found it on the floor when I took the phonograph back,” he explained.  “It was twisted up hard.  Don’t know why I unrolled it.  Just chance.”

He waited until Alan had read the few words on the bit of paper, watching closely the slight tensing of the other’s face.  After a moment Alan dropped the paper, rose to his feet, and went to the window.  There was no longer a light in the cabin where Mary Standish had been accepted as a guest.  Stampede, too, had risen from his seat.  He saw the sudden and almost imperceptible shrug of Alan’s shoulders.

It was Alan who spoke, after a half-mixture of silence.  “Rather a missing link, isn’t it?  Adds up a number of things fairly well.  And I’m grateful to you, Stampede.  Almost—­you didn’t tell me.”

“Almost,” admitted Stampede.

“And I wouldn’t have blamed you.  She’s that kind—­the kind that makes you feel anything said against her is a lie.  And I’m going to believe that paper is a lie—­until tomorrow.  Will you take a message to Tautuk and Amuk Toolik when you go out?  I’m having breakfast at seven.  Tell them to come to my cabin with their reports and records at eight.  Later I’m going up into the foothills to look over the herds.”

Stampede nodded.  It was a good fight on Alan’s part, and it was just the way he had expected him to take the matter.  It made him rather ashamed of the weakness and uncertainty to which he had confessed.  Of course they could do nothing with a woman; it wasn’t a shooting business—­yet.  But there was a debatable future, if the gist of the note on the table ran true to their unspoken analysis of it.  Promise of something like that was in Alan’s eyes.

He opened the door.  “I’ll have Tautuk and Amuk Toolik here at eight.  Good night, Alan!”

“Good night!”

Alan watched Stampede’s figure until it had disappeared before he closed the door.