"Did he come back here just now?"

"No; he went to the jail-house, and he would not let me follow. He
don' come back no more."

This was confusing, and Meade cried, angrily:

"Why didn't you give the alarm? Why didn't you come to me instead of
yelling your lungs out around the house?"

"He told me to wait," she said, simply.

"Go find Poleon, quick."

"He told me to wait," she repeated, stoically, and Burrell knew he
was powerless to move her. He saw the image of a great terror in the
woman's face. The night suddenly became heavy with the hint of
unspeakable things, and he grew fearful, suspecting now that Gale
had told him but a part of his story, that all the time he knew
Stark's identity, and that his quarry was at hand, ready for the
kill; or, if not, he had learned enough while standing behind that
partition. Where was he now? Where was Necia? What part did she play
in this? Stark's parting words struck Burrell again like a blow.
This life-long feud was drawing swiftly to some tragic culmination,
and somewhere out in the darkness those two strong, hate-filled men
were settling their scores. All at once a fear for the trader's life
came upon the young man, and he realized that a great bond held them
together. He could not think clearly, because of the dread thing
that gripped him at thought of Necia. Was he to lose her, after all?
He gave up trying to think, and fled for Stark's saloon, reasoning