As for Dorothy, she realised at last how she had been trying to keep the truth from herself.  She thought of how she had almost resented the fact of Pasmore having more than once faced death in order to secure the safety of her father and herself, although the man was modesty itself and made it appear as if it were only a matter of duty.  True, she had thanked him in words, but her heart upbraided her when she thought of how commonplace and conventional those words must have sounded, no matter what she might have felt She knew now that Katie must have found and spoken to him, and that her father’s liberty probably meant his—­Pasmore’s—­death.  How noble was the man!  How true the words—­“Greater love hath-no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend.”

It was Douglas who first broke the silence; he spoke like a man who was determined on a certain line of action, and whose resolve nothing should shake.

“I feel that what this fellow tells us is true, Dorothy,” he said; “but it is utterly impossible that I can have it so.  Pasmore is a young man with all his life before him, and I have no right to expect a sacrifice like this.  I am going back—­back this very moment, and you must go on with Rory.  Pasmore can follow up.  You must go on to Child-of-Light, who will take you safely to some of the settlers near Fort Pitt.  As soon as the soldiers get here they will crush this rebellion at once.  After all, I don’t believe they will harm me.  As for Pasmore, if they discover that he is one of the Police, he is a dead man.  Good-bye!”

The girl caught him by both hands, and kissed him.

“You are right, father, you are only doing what is right,” she said, “but I am coming with you.  I could not possibly think of going on alone.  We will return together.  You will go on and take Pasmore’s place—­it will be all one to his guards so long as they produce a prisoner—­and he can make good his escape.  Lagrange here, who had charge of me before, can imprison me along with you, and the chances are they will be content to keep us as prisoners.  It will also save Lagrange from getting into trouble later on.”

“Ah! that ees mooch good,” broke in the breed, who had caught the drift of the last proposal. “Oui, that ees good, and then they will not shoot me mooch dead.”

Old Rory gave a grunt and eyed the hulking fellow disgustedly.  “It’s nary a fut ye’ll be goin’ back now, an’ I’m tellin’ yees, so it’s makin’ what moind ye have aisy, sez Oi.”

He turned to the rancher and there was grim determination in his eyes.

“An’ as for you goin’ back now, shure an’ it’s a gossoon ye’ll be takin’ me for if ye think I’ll be lettin’ yees.  It’s ten chances to wan them jokers’ll have changed their sentymints by the time ye git thar, and will hould on to the sarjint as well as to you.  It’s mesilf as is goin’ back if ye juist tell me where the show is, for I knows the whole caboodle, an’ if I can’t git him out o’ that before another hour, then Rory’s not the name av me.  You juist—­”