She crept on her knees to the slicker and seized one piece of bannock, crawled out of the firelight stealthily, then sprang to her feet and began running straight across the meadow toward Skinner.
Twenty yards she covered when a bullet sang over her head.

Lorraine ducked, stumbled and fell headfirst over a hummock, not quite sure that she had not been shot.
"Thought maybe I could trust yuh to play square," Al said disgustedly, pulling her to her feet, the gun still smoking in his hands.

"You little fool, what do you think you'd do in these hills alone?
You sure enough belittle me, if you think you'd have a chance in a million of getting away from me!" She fought him, then, with a great, inner relief that the situation was at last swinging around to a normal kidnapping.

Still, Al Woodruff seemed unable to play his part realistically.

He failed to fill her with fear and repulsion.