I've suffered a great deal at the hands of men
in the past six months. I'm beginning to believe that all men are
brutes at heart."
Roaring Bill sat up and clasped his hands over his knees and stared
fixedly into the fire.
"No," he said slowly, "all men are not brutes--any more than all women
are angels. I'll convince you of that."
"Take me home, then," she cried forlornly. "That's the only way you
can convince me or make amends."
"No," Bill murmured, "that isn't the way. Wait till you know me
better. Besides, I couldn't take you out now if I wanted to without
exposing you to greater hardships than you'll have to endure here. Do
you realize that it's fall, and we're in the high latitudes? This snow
may not go off at all. Even if it does it will storm again before a
week. You couldn't wallow through snow to your waist in
forty-below-zero weather."
"People will pass here, and I'll get word out," Hazel asserted
desperately.
"What good would that do you? You've got too much conventional regard
for what you term your reputation to send word to Cariboo Meadows that
you're living back here with Roaring Bill Wagstaff, and won't some one
please come and rescue you.
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