shall you go and Helga's horse lead, since it may be that with her one
hand she cannot manage him. Why do you in your face so red grow?"

Alwin grew still redder; but he could not tell the good old man that he
would rather follow a herd of unbroken steers all day, than walk one
mile before a beautiful young Amazon who looked at him as if he were a
dog. He mumbled something indistinctly, and hastened out after the
horses.

Helga rose stiffly from the pile of furs; it was evident that every new
motion revealed a new bruise to her, but she set her white teeth and
held her chin high in the air. When she had taken leave of the trader,
she walked out without a limp and vaulted into her saddle unaided. The
sunlight, glancing from her silver helm, fell upon her floating hair and
turned it into a golden glory that hid rents and stains, and redeemed
even the kirtle, which stopped at the knee.

As he helped the old man to mount, Alwin gazed at her with unwilling
admiration. Perhaps some day he would show her that he was not so
utterly contemptible as...

She made him an imperious gesture; he stalked haughtily forward, he took
his place at her bridle rein, and the three set forth.



CHAPTER III

A GALLANT OUTLAW