"Hostility!" she flashed, with sudden passion. "And why? Because we were told that your army, and the English, were to be the saviours of our country. My father and brother had a factory near Mons, m'sieu; and because they showed hospitality to a party of the Allies they were tortured and then shot. Your armies fell back -back-leaving our land devastated. Many explanations have been made; but a woman-a simple womanjudges from what she sees. Do you wonder that I have no love for your people ?"

"I think," said Puichot, half to himself, "that you have never yet loved any one, ma'mselle."

"It has never been worth while. My man would have to be un beau sabre, very tender, very brave, and a hundred other things! When I meet him I will perhaps give him my heart. Until then- Your coffee grows cold, m’sieu!

It was their only approach to anything like intimacy. But the fact did not prevent Jean Puichot falling very swiftly and effectively in love with her. For a day or so longer they waited, always on the qui vive for the Uhlans; and then an afternoon came when the half-witted lacemaker fled past the door with the news that they were on their way from the next village. Already the distant hoof-beats could be heard.

"What are your plans?" asked the girl, as Puichot limped toward the front-door.

"Upon such occasions as this," said Puichot seriously, "one's nerves require a sedative. Pere Bompard, three doors lower down, sells drugs, I believe?"

"Inquire for yourself," said Lucille, and turned her back upon him, her eyes hot with contempt and anger.

He slipped away, but three minutes later was back again. "The good Bompard was hiding in his cellar; consequently I was left to compound my own prescription." His tone changed. "As for you, ma'mselle, you will oblige me by retiring to the kitchen, and

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there proceeding to make your face dirty and your hair untidy-in effect, transforming yourself into the least attractive woman in northern France, if that be possible."

"This is no time for compliments, even of the clumsiest," she flashed. Nevertheless, she went. And, afterwards her obedience seemed to her the most remarkable thing of that remarkable day.

The Uhlans-a lieutenant and halfa-dozen men-approached. The lieutenant rapped with his sword-hilt against the door, and then, without waiting for an answer, flung himself into the room. Puichot, equipped with a large white apron, had taken his place behind the counter, and was polishing glasses.

"Here," said the German, "give us wine the best you have."

"I am sorry, Excellency; but there is so little left"

"We've heard that tale before. If you're afraid to fetch the stuff, call your pig of a wife. I am thirsty." "We are poor folk. You will pay

us ?"

"Of a certainty. The Emperor will call in one of his Zeppelins with the money to-morrow! Quick, fool!"

Puichot, fumbling among the bottles behind him, uncorked and proffered one. The lieutenant filled a glass, swallowed a mouthful, and flung the remaider in his face.

"When will offal of your type understand that when a gentleman calls for wine he does not desire vinegar? What have you in your cellars?"

"Very little, Excellency," said Puichot, spluttering.

"Go and fetch it. And we will follow. Those who fly down into cellars have a trick of disappearing altogether.-Sergeant!"

One of the men came forward. "See first if this animal has weapons."

"Up with your hands!" said the sergeant. He jerked Puichot's hands upward, and sent a row of glasses to the floor.

"He is unarmed, Excellency."

"Good! Let him march." Puichot shuffled off in the direction of the scullery, where Lucille was clattering aimlessly among the saucepans.

"Wife!"

She started, and turned towards him with a crimsoned face.

"These gentlemen desire wine." "I-I will fetch some at once, messieurs," she said, and went down the steps which led to the little whitewashed cellar. The officer turned to the sergeant again.

"Johan!"

"Herr lieutenant ?"

"I am tired of shepherding these animals. They are slow-witted and slow-moving, and they may, after all, be deceiving us. Knock the one left behind here three times on the head for every minute which passes before his scarecrow of a wife returns."

The sergeant, with a grin, dealt Puichot three blows which sent him staggering.

Puichot's voice shook

"Lucille!" with pain and fear.

She appeared in the doorway, laden. "Bring them back to the parlor," commanded the lieutenant. He followed at the rear of the party, and watched while the girl uncorked the first bottle. "This is better. And the scarecrow is less repulsive than I had imagined. Her grime hides something of her beauty." He leered at her over the wine. "Give me a kiss, scarecrow, and I will risk the dirt."

"I-I would sooner give you another bottle of wine, m'sieu."

"Except that of La Somna brand," intervened Puichot, in an anxious whisper.

The lieutenant overheard, and set down his glass, scowling. "What is that ?"

"Nothing, Excellency; nothing!" "Nothing? When you have still a better wine which you have not produced!"

"There are but six bottles, Excellency. It is of a vintage for the connoisseur's palate only."

go. No; she shall remain as a hostage. And you"-the lieutenant drew his sabre "would be wise to hasten."

Puichot moved away. The eyes of the girl followed him. There was bewilderment, and shame, and contempt in their depths.

A moment later, and Puichot stumbled back into the room again, the bottles in his arms.

"Excellency, these are all I have. I would implore you"

"Open them, dolt. And you"-he indicated the other men with a magniloquent wave of his hand-"may help yourselves."

Puichot knocked off the neck of a bottle, received a blow for his clumsiness, and was ordered to bring and fill fresh glasses. He obeyed. The girl watched him secretly, but would not meet his eyes.

"Himmel," said the lieutenant, drinking, "but this is rousing stuff!" He smashed open a second bottle, and then a third.

"Excellency, I am ruined!" moaned Puichot.

"Swine such as you are lucky to escape slaughter. We will sing, and the pair of you shall dance to our singing. Listen." He bellowed the chorus of a taproom song. "Sing, wench, sing, or"- The lieutenant staggered toward the girl, gripping his sabre.

She gave a choked cry of terror, and shrank back. Puichot stood motionless until the man was a couple of feet away, watching him with keen, critical eyes. Then he dealt a sudden, swinging blow which caught the protruding chin fairly. The lieutenant went down with a crash which set the glasses jangling, and lay still.

The sergeant made a movement to rise, but dropped back heavily in his seat. None of the other men stirred; their breathing had become heavy, their eyes dull and fishlike. One by one they slid forward in ungainly heaps.

The girl stood as though frozen.
"What-what does it mean?"
"The wine was drugged," said Pui-

chiefly from Pere Bompard's."

"Will they will they die?"

He shook his head. "I am no poisoner, ma'mselle. They should come to their fuddled senses in a few hours. Before then"-he eyed her with a faint smile-"one could travel some considerable distance, especially if one had a vehicle."

She understood. "I will harness the mare at once, m'sieu. And later, when I am able, I will try to thank you."

*

Dusk fell, and found the two of them plodding along a road that stretched, an interminable gray ribbon, between a succession of wind-swept poplars and over many hills. They had taken what Puichot conceived to be the direction of the Allies' lines; but their chief anxiety was to avoid any chance patrol of Uhlans. Once they took refuge in a spinney, hearing hoof-beats that soon died away; and later they were compelled to make a

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long detour because of a swollen stream, a sinister freshet in which the bodies of men and beasts floated darkly.

Night had enwrapped them when a sudden "Halte!" broke the silence. Puichot climbed down from the cart, but in a moment returned.

"Be thankful, ma'mselle. It is a French outpost. They will care for us both until to-morrow."

"And afterwards our roads will lie apart."

"Must they?" he asked, in an unsteady voice.

"We-we have known one another so short a time, m'sieu."

"A lifetime, an eternity, ma'mselle! You are Belgian; I am French. Everything in the world may divide us; but I love you. If I go back to the wars and fight-I, who am no beau sabre, but whose very soul is yours-will you wait for me?"

"Yes," she whispered, and with brimming eyes lifted her lips to his.

VI.

HE MAN and the girl whirled to find themselves looking into the muzzle of Ben Sidney's

Winchester.

Coyote gasped. It had slipped her mind that the deputy might have a saddle-gun.

Sidney chuckled disagreeably.

"Seems to me," he said sneeringly, "yuh two is gettin' mighty confidential-like. Better save some o' thet friendship fer me, Coyote. Only, I wants a leetle more'n hand-squeezin' fer mine."

He rose slowly. His carbine, held waist-high, now pointed at Coyote. "Drop thet gun." His tone was menacing.

"Don't yuh do hit!" Gotch was on his feet in an instant. "Don't yuh do hit. He won't shoot yuh, honey. Yuh hold on to thet carbine."

Sidney laughed. He had an odd habit of laughing at any and all times.

"Say," he chuckled, "did yuh ever hear o' Ben Sidney bluffin'? Now one more word from yuh, Gotch Lumsey, and yer'll be a-spittin' blood." The deputy spat, as if to emphasize his words; then, chuckling again, he addressed the girl. "I only wants what's comin' to me," he drawled. "I've allers liked yuh, Coyote. Yuh never did seem to take much stock in me, but thet warn't my fault. Seein'

as how yuh won't make up to me, and as how I've got the upper hand just now, I'm gonna oblige yuh to pay me for them cartridges yuh swiped from my Colt. Just one leetle kiss, 'honey,' and we'll call hit squar. But, fust, yuh must drop thet gun. If yuh don't, I'll shoot hit out o' yer hand. Now drop hit-quick!"

Coyote had no intention of parting with her weapon. She, too, was on her feet now, and, instinctively, her fingers tightened about her baby carbine. But it was useless.

With a lightning-like spring, astonishing in one of his apparent lazy, dilatory nature, Sidney was by her side, his big left hand gripping the barrel of her gun. He laughed maliciously as, with a quick jerk, he flung the weapon far into the bushes. Still covering Gotch with his own carbine, he caught the girl about the waist with his free arm and forced her to him.

Panting, enraged, Coyote fought desperately, tiger-like. But the arm about her was like a hoop of steel. It drew her to the man, in spite of all her young strength. Viciously her fingers tore at his face, but he only laughed at her efforts. She screamed as she felt his stubby-haired lips pressed against her cheek. Then a deafening report set her ear-drums vibrating. The arm about her suddenly relaxed, and dazed, she sank to her knees. But her stupefaction was only momentary. Another instant, and she

was again in full possession of her wits. She saw Gotch stoop down beside the motionless form of the deputy and take the Winchester from his right hand.

"Yuh didn't kill him?" she gasped. The cowboy turned at the sound of her voice. "Naw. He's only dreamin'."

"Where did yuh shoot him?"

"I didn't shoot. He done the shootin'. I put him to sleep with my quirt."

Then she noticed that he held a quirt in one hand, handle-end down.

"Oh, Gotch!" she exclaimed. "He tried to kill yuh, didn't he?"

"He shore did." Gotch grinned. Then, flinging the quirt in the direction of his saddle, he rose, swung the carbine's strap over his shoulder, and approached the girl. With both hands he assisted her to her feet.

She still felt a little faint, unstrung. Furtively she glanced to where Sidney's huge form lay stretched upon the ground. She shuddered and asked: "Be yuh shore he ain't dead?"

"Shore," replied the cowboy. "Yuh can't kill one o' them kind o' critters with a crowbar. The only way to anni'late 'em is to git a bomb or a cannon and blow 'em up." Gotch removed his Stetson and stuck one finger through a bullet-hole in the crown. "Wish I'd wore my ole hat," he lamented. "Thar's twenty dollars gone to heck."

Coyote drew closer to the tall puncher, and, laying one small hand on his arm, looked anxiously up into his face.

"I be a-wantin' yuh to take keer o' yerself, Gotch," she said. Then, suddenly, her gaze fell. " 'Cause 'cause, if anything'd happen to yuh, what'd become o' me?"

Awkwardly, he put one arm about the girl. He was not much of a ladies' man-this rough, uncultured cowboy; but he loved none the less, and his heart was big. Gotch could "blow up" an evil-doer with never a flutter of heart or nerves but it had taken all the courage he could master to put his

arm

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about this child-woman-this sweet, wild, beautiful little creature whom he had loved for so long. Again and again he tried to say what he wanted so bad to say, but speech utterly failed him. Her nearness, the beauty of her eyes, the subtle odor of her hair, fairly intoxicated him. At last, in desperation, he blurted out: "I loves yuh, Coyote."

Without a moment's hesitation the

answer came:

"I loves yuh, Gotch," she whispered. Gotch sighed heavily.

"I don't see how in thunder yuh can love an ole red-headed, crooked-eyed skunk like me," he said presently.

"Aw, I thinks yer're arful goodlookin', Gotch. Anyway, it ain't yer looks I be a-lovin', I loves yuh just 'cause I loves yuh. But yuh could git thet crooked eye fixed if yuh wanted to. Be yuh a-knowin' thet?"

He glanced at her uneasily.

"Fixed?" he queried; then added, suspiciously, "I don't want nobody monkeyin' with my squinters."

"Once," Coyote explained, "a long time ago, I asks daddy what made yer eye crooked and he said as how thar's doctors in the big cities what could straighten hit in no time."

Gotch shook his head skeptically. "They might punch the durned thing out. Then wouldn't I be in a hell o' a fix?"

"Wall, I ain't a worryin' about yer eye, nohow." And reaching up with her two small hands she drew his face down to hers, "I wants a kiss, Gotch," she whispered softly.

The rims of their Stetsons were touching now.

Gently, reverently, he pressed his lips to hers. And in that short space it seemed to the cowboy that he gave and received all the love in the world. Now that the first dreaded ordeal was over, he was loath to desist. He kissed her again and again, revelling in the ecstacy of satisfying in a small degree that love-hunger that had gnawed at his heart for years.

At length he released her, and said: "Guess yuh'd better be gittin' home