In answer to his demand who was there came another torrent of profanity.

It was one of his comrades of the day before. He explained that he and two

others had come up to pay a visit to the pretty girl. They had had a wager

as to who could win her, and they had come to try; but she was not here.

The door was fastened. They had forced it. There was no sign of her about.

The other two had gone down to the place where her brother was buried to

see whether she was there. Women were known to be sentimental. She might

be that kind. He had agreed to wait here, but he was getting uneasy.

Perhaps, if the other two found her, they might not be fair.

The last comer with a mighty oath explained that the girl belonged to him,

and that no one had a right to her. He demanded that the other come with

him to the grave, and see what had become of the girl; and then they would

all go and drink together--but the girl belonged to him.

They rode to the place of the graves, and met the two others returning;

but there was no sign of the girl, and the three taunted the one, saying

that the girl had given him the slip. Amid much argument as to whose she

was and where she was, they rode on cursing through God's beauty. They

passed the bottle continually, that their nerves might be the steadier;

and, when they came to the deserted cabin once more, they paused and

discussed what to do.

At last it was agreed that they should start on a quest after her, and

with oaths, and coarse jests, and drinking, they started down the trail of

which the girl had gone in search by her roundabout way.




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