As Shuter at last staggered to his feet, his daughter ran to his side.  The sight of the girl made Harry forget his resentment, and he walked toward her with the intention of apologizing; but the moment her eyes fell upon him she burst forth furiously, “Get out of this, you little fool; I am sick of making a fool of you.  There’s not a man in the tent but knows how I have been laughing at your attempts at love-making.”  Pointing her finger derisively at him she continued ironically, “What do you think, men, of that thing making love to me?”

All eyes were turned on her unhappy little lover, whose face was now pitifully white and drawn.  The jeers which she expected, to her surprise did not come, for the little fellow’s appreciation of his trying position was so painfully apparent in his drooping figure and pallid face, that there was not a man among them who did not feel more like gathering him in their strong arms than jeering at him.  Never before had they realized what a weakly, effeminate little soul he was.

“It’s all right, boys, you can let go.”  It was Joe who broke the silence.  They had almost forgotten they were still holding him lest he should lay hands again on Shuter.  Without a word they released him, for they knew by the tone of his voice, and from the pitiful look he gave his little driver, that he had forgotten all about his enemy.  As Joe strode toward Harry, and the yellow glare from the coal lamps, fastened to posts behind the counter, fell athwart his powerful, weather-beaten face and massive figure, they realized as they had never done before the striking physical difference between the scraper-handler and his driver, and wondered vaguely how two such dissimilar characters could attract each other so powerfully.

“Don’t mind her, Harry, don’t mind her; she’s not worthy of you.  Let’s go.”  As arm and arm they strode out of the tent the men quietly parted.

“I’ll have a reckoning with that cub of yours some other time, Joe Swan,” shouted Shuter, with an attempt of bravado, as they were disappearing.  He had mistaken the humor of the men; one of them told him to shut his cursed mouth.

Before the two silent figures had taken a dozen steps in the thick darkness toward their own tent, the storm broke out afresh.  The turbulent clouds, unobstructed for hundreds of miles by either hills or trees, were now hovering over the very sod, and at short intervals vivid, sinuous gleams broke from them, and, serpent-like, went writhing and glistening through the matted grass, while the roar of the thunder made the apprehensive earth tremble perceptibly.

Joe had seen two such dread storms before, and so paid but little attention to them.  Thinking his companion might be afraid of the appalling sight, he said, as he glanced down at his drawn face, “It’s only on the prairies one sees storms like these; and I’ve seen men as didn’t fear a revolver get mighty scared at a sight like this.  First time I saw it I felt queer enough.”