him.

It was then that Helen Chester witnessed her first tragedy of the
frontier, and through it came to know better the man whom she
disliked and with whom she had been thrown so fatefully. Already
she had thrilled at the spell of this country, but she had not
learned that strength and license carry blood and violence as
corollaries.

Emerging from the doorway at the foot of the stairs, they drifted
slowly along the walk, watching the crowd. Besides the universal
tension, there were laughter and hope and exhilaration in the
faces. The enthusiasm of this boyish multitude warmed one. The
girl wished to get into this spirit--to be one of them. Then
suddenly from the babble at their elbows came a discordant note,
not long nor loud, only a few words, penetrating and harsh with
the metallic quality lent by passion.

Helen glanced over her shoulder to find that the smiles of the
throng were gone and that its eyes were bent on some scene in the
street, with an eager interest she had never seen mirrored before.
Simultaneously Glenister spoke:

"Come away from here."

With the quickened eye of experience he foresaw trouble and tried
to drag her on, but she shook off his grasp impatiently, and,
turning, gazed absorbed at the spectacle which unfolded itself
before her. Although not comprehending the play of events, she
felt vaguely the quick approach of some crisis, yet was unprepared