“But it was no joke to Curly.”

“Apparently not, judging by the noise he made.  What did you do with him?”

“What did I do with him!  Just wait until you see the blackened tree to which he was bound, and then you won’t ask such a question.”

“I can readily understand how Curly would blacken anything he touched, even a tree.  But you didn’t burn him.  Such a diabolical thing is not in your makeup.”

“What did I do with him, then?”

“Scared him almost out of his wits, and then let him go.”

“How did you learn that?” Weston demanded.  “Have the Indians been telling you anything?”

“I don’t have to depend upon the natives for common sense.  I have a little left yet, thank God, and reason tells me that Curly is now beyond the Golden Crest, cursing and vowing vengeance upon you and your associates.”

“And no one told you all this?” Weston inquired.  “Are you sure?”

“Certain.  No one told me a word.  You have your Indians well trained.”

Weston gave a deep sigh of relief, and remained silent for a few minutes.  What he was thinking about Reynolds had not the faintest idea.  Nevertheless, he watched him closely, expecting any instant to be ordered away for the Ordeal.  He believed that his boldness and straightforward manner had made some impression upon the ruler of Glen West, but how much he could not tell.

And as he stood waiting, a sound from the room across the hallway arrested his attention.  It was music, sweet and full of pathos.  Reynolds at once knew that it must be Glen.  It could be no other, and he was determined to see her once more ere her father should drive him from the place.

Turning suddenly, he started to leave the room, but his guards sprang forward and caught him by the arms.  Savagely he threw them aside, for nothing but death, could stop him now.  The Indians were about to leap upon him again, when a sharp command in the native tongue from Weston caused them to desist.  In another second Reynolds was out of the room, and hurrying toward her for whom he had ventured so much.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PREPARED ROOM

The trip down to the big river was not altogether to Glen’s liking.  She preferred to stay at home, as she hoped to be able to spend part of the day with Reynolds, But her father had insisted upon her accompanying him, for he well knew why she wished to remain behind.

“It will do you good,” he told her.  “You need a change.”

“I certainly do,” was the emphatic reply.  “I wish you would leave this place, daddy.  I am tired living up here, where there are no people of my own age with whom I can associate.”

Weston looked at his daughter in surprise.

“You used to be happy here, Glen.  What has come over you?”

“I am older now, daddy, and see things in a different light.  What is the good of my education if I am to spend the rest of my days in a place like this?  The north is all right in a way, but for a girl such as I am the life is too narrow.  It is a splendid region for a person who wishes to lead the quiet life, but I am not ready for that at present.”