Her beautiful face was clouded beneath a somber shadow which is so often accredited as a presage of tragedy.  Surely her expression was one of a great, passionate nature, of a soul capable of a wondrous love, or a wondrous—­hate.  She had seated herself upon the ground with the careless abandon of one used to such a resting-place.  Her trim riding-boots were displayed from beneath the hem of her coarse dungaree habit.  Her Stetson hat was pushed back on her head, leaving the broad low forehead exposed.  Her black waving hair streamed about her face, a perfect framing for the Van Dyke coloring of her skin.  She was very beautiful.

The man shifted his position.

“Tell me,” he went on, gazing over towards where a flock of wild ducks had suddenly settled upon a reedy swamp, and were noisily revelling in the water, “did your uncle know anything about this?”

“Not a soul on God’s earth knew.  Did you ever suspect anything?”

Bill shook his head.

“Not a thing.  I was as well posted on the subject of Peter as any one.  Sometimes I thought it curious that old John’s stock and my own were never interfered with.  But I had no suspicion of the truth.  Peter’s relationship to your mother—­did the Breeds in the settlement know anything of it?”

“No—­I alone knew.”

“Ah!”

The girl looked curiously into her companion’s face.  The tone of his exclamation startled her.  She wondered towards what end his questions were leading.  His face was inscrutable; she gained no inspiration from it.  There was a short pause.  She wondered anxiously how her story had affected him in regard to herself.  After all, she was only a woman—­a woman of strong affections and deep feelings.  Her hardihood, her mannish self-reliance, were but outer coverings, the result of the surroundings of her daily life.  She feared lest he should turn from her in utter loathing.

The Hon. Bunning-Ford had no such thoughts, however.  Twenty-four hours ago her story might have startled him.  But now it was different.  His was as wild and reckless a nature as her own.  Law and order were matters which he regarded in the light of personal inclinations.  He had seen too much of the early life on the prairie to be horrified by the part this courageous girl had taken in her blood-relative’s interests.  Under other circumstances “Lord” Bill might well have developed into a “bad man” himself.  As it was, his sympathies were always with those whose daring led them into ways of danger and risk of personal safety.

“How far does this valley extend?” he asked abruptly, stepping over as though to obtain a view of the southern extremity of the mysterious hollow.

“Guess we reckoned it 300 miles.  Dead straight into the heart of the mountains, then out again sharply into the foot-hills thirty miles south of the border.  It comes to an end in Montana.”

“And Peter disposed of his stock that way—­all by himself?” he asked, returning to his seat upon the boulder.