he promised my father—" began Kate, and then stopped, flushing.
If her father was right in diagnosing Dan's character, this was the most critical day in his life, for there he stood surrounded by armed men. If there were anything wild in his nature it would be brought out that day. She was almost glad the time of trial had come.
She said: "How about the guns, Mr. Morgan?"
"If you want them collected and put away for a while," offered Lee Haines, "I'll do what I can to help you!"
Her smile of thanks set his blood tingling. His glance lingered a little too long, a little too gladly, and she coloured slightly.
"Miss Cumberland," said Haines, "may I introduce myself? My name is Lee."
She hesitated. The manners she had learned in the Eastern school forbade it, but her Western instinct was truer and stronger. Her hand went out to him.
"I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Lee."
"All right, stranger," said Morgan, who in the meantime had been shifting from one foot to the other and estimating the large chances of failure in this attempt to collect the guns, "if you're going to help me corral the shootin' irons, let's start the roundup."
The girl went with them. They had no trouble in getting the weapons. The cold blue eye of Lee Haines was a quick and effective persuasion.
When they reached Jim Silent he stared fixedly upon Haines. Then he drew his guns slowly and presented them to his comrade, while his eyes shifted to Kate and he said coldly: "Lady, I hope I ain't the last one to congratulate you!"
She did not understand, but Haines scowled and coloured. Dan, in the meantime, was swept into the saloon by an influx of the cowpunchers that left only Lee Haines outside with Kate. She had detained him with a gesture.
6. LAUGHTER
"Mr. Lee," she said, "I am going to ask you to do me a favour. Will you?"
His smile was a sufficient answer, and it was in her character that she made no pretext of misunderstanding it.
"You have noticed Dan among the crowd?" she asked, "Whistling Dan?"
"Yes," he said, "I saw him do some very nice shooting."
"It's about him that I want to speak to you. Mr. Lee, he knows very little about men and their ways. He is almost a child among them. You seem —stronger—than most of the crowd here. Will you see that if trouble comes he is not imposed upon?"
She flushed a little; there was such a curious yearning in the eyes of the big man.
"If you wish it," he said simply, "I will do what I can."
As he walked beside her towards her horse, she turned to him abruptly.
"You are very different from the men I have met around here," she said.
"I am glad," he answered.
"Glad?"
"If you find me different, you will remember me, whether for better or worse."
He spoke so earnestly that she grew grave. He helped her to the saddle and she leaned a little to study him with the same gentle gravity.
"I should like to see you again, Mr. Lee," she said, and then in a little outburst, "I should like to see you a lot!Will you come to my house sometime?"
The directness, the sudden smile, made him flinch. His voice was a trifle unsteady when he replied.
"I shall!" He paused and his hand met hers. "If it is possible."
Her eyebrows raised a trifle.
"Is it so hard to do?"
"Do not ask me to explain," he said, "I am riding a long way."
"Oh, a 'long-rider'!" she laughed, "then of course—" She stopped abruptly. It may have been imagination, but he seemed to start when she spoke the phrase by which outlaws were known to each other. He was forcing his eyes to meet hers.
He said slowly: "I am going on a long journey. Perhaps I will come back. If I am able to, I shall."
He dropped his hand from hers and she remained silent, guessing at many things, and deeply moved, for every woman knows when a man speaks from his soul.
"You will not forget me?"
"I shall never forget you," she answered quietly. "Good-bye, Mr. Lee!"
Her hand touched his again, she wheeled, and rode away. He remained standing with the hand she had grasped still raised. And after a moment, as he had hoped, she turned in the saddle and waved to him. His eyes were downward and he was smiling faintly when he re-entered the saloon.
Silent sat at a table with his chin propped in his hand—his left hand, of course, for that restless right hand must always be free. He stared across the room towards Whistling Dan. The train of thoughts which kept those ominous eyes so unmoving must be broken. He sat down at the side of his chief.
"What the hell?" said the big man, "ain't you started yet?"
"Look here, Jim," said Haines cautiously, "I want you to lay off on this kid, Whistling Dan. It won't mean anything to you to raise the devil with him."
"I tell you," answered Silent, "it'll please me more'n anything in the world to push that damned girl face of his into the floor."
"Silent, I'm asking a personal favour of you!"
The leader turned upon him that untamed stare. Haines set his teeth.
"Haines," came the answer, "I'll stand more from you than from any man alive. I know you've got guts an' I know you're straight with me. But there ain't anything can keep me from manhandlin' that kid over there." He opened and shut his fingers slowly. "I sort of yearn to get at him!"
Haines recognized defeat.
"But you haven't another gun hidden on you, Jim? You won't try to shoot him up?"
"No," said Silent. "If I had a gun I don't know—but I haven't a gun. My hands'll be enough!"
All that could be done now was to get Whistling Dan out of the saloon. That would be simple. A single word would suffice to send the timid man helter- skelter homewards.
The large, lazy brown eyes turned up to Haines as the latter approached.
"Dan," he said, "hit for the timbers—get on your way— there's danger here for you!"
To his astonishment the brown eyes did not vary a shade.
"Danger?" he repeated wonderingly.
"Danger! Get up and get out if you want to save
