“You’ll need what few things you have,” said she, “and—­I’ll soon warm up.  There’s no telling what dad will do.  I must keep an eye on him.”

“You give yourself too much concern.  He’s chilled through and it’s natural that he should take a drink.  My men will give him something dry to wear, and meanwhile—­”

Rouletta interrupted with a shake of her head, but the Countess gently persisted: 

“Don’t take your misfortune too hard.  The loss of your outfit means nothing compared with your safety.  It was a great tragedy, of course, but you and your father were saved.  You still have him and he has you.”

“Danny knew what was coming,” said the girl, and tears welled into her eyes, then slowly overflowed down her white cheeks.  “But he faced it.  He was game.  He was a good man at heart.  He had his faults, of course, but he loved dad and he loved me; why, he used to carry me out to see the horses before I could walk; he was my friend, my playmate, my pal.  He’d have done murder for me!” Through her tears Rouletta looked up.  “It’s hard for you to believe that I know, after what he did to you, but—­you know how men are on the trail.  Nothing matters.  He was angry when you outwitted him, and so was father, for that matter, but I told them it served us right and I forbade them to molest you further.”

“You did that?  Then it’s you I have to thank.”  The Countess smiled gravely.  “I could never understand why I came off so easily.”

“I’m glad I made them behave.  You’ve more than repaid—­” Rouletta paused, she strained her ears to catch the sound of voices from the neighboring tents.  “I don’t hear father,” said she.  “I wonder if he could have gone?”

“Perhaps the men have put him to bed—­”

But Miss Kirby would not accept this explanation.  “I’m afraid—­” Again she listened apprehensively.  “Once he gets a taste of liquor there’s no handling him; he’s terrible.  Even Danny couldn’t do anything with him; sometimes even I have failed.”  Hurriedly she took down her sodden skirt and made as if to draw it on.

“Oh, child, you mustn’t!  You simply must not go out this way.  Wait here.  I’ll find him for you and make sure he’s all right.”

The half-clad girl smiled miserably.  “Thank you,” said she.  But when the Countess had stepped out into the night she finished dressing herself.  Her clothing, of course, was as wet as ever, for the warmth of the tent in these few moments had not even heated it through; nevertheless, her apprehension was so keen that she was conscious of little bodily discomfort.

“You were right,” the Countess announced when she returned.  “He slipped into some borrowed clothes and went up-town.  He told the boys he couldn’t sit still.  But you mustn’t follow—­at least in that dress-”

“Did he—­drink any more?”

“I’m afraid he did.”

Heedless of the elder woman’s restraining hands, Rouletta Kirby made for the tent opening.  “Please don’t stop me,” she implored.  “There’s no time to lose and—­I’ll dry out in time.”