of the girl.

Somehow that brought him comfort. He had a queer feeling that he had
been a party to some horrible outrage. Yet all that had taken place
was the whipping of an Indian girl. He tried to laugh away the weak
sympathy in his heart.

But the truth was that inside he was a wild river of woe for her.




CHAPTER IV

THE WOLFERS


When Tom Morse reached camp he found Bully West stamping about in a
heady rage. The fellow was a giant of a man, almost muscle-bound in
his huge solidity. His shoulders were rounded with the heavy pack of
knotted sinews they carried. His legs were bowed from much riding. It
was his boast that he could bend a silver dollar double in the palm of
his hand. Men had seen him twist the tail rod of a wagon into a knot.
Sober, he was a sulky, domineering brute with the instincts of a
bully. In liquor, the least difference of opinion became for him a
cause of quarrel.

Most men gave him a wide berth, and for the sake of peace accepted
sneers and insults that made the blood boil.