cowpunchers is gettin' so thick around those parts," broke in Purvis, "that Buck wouldn't even let me go back to his house with him to get my gun."
The keen eyes of Silent never left the face of Daniels.
"Don't you know that Gus Morris gives us all the news we need, Buck?"
Rhinehart and Jordan, who were chatting together, stopped to listen. Buck smiled easily.
"I don't no ways doubt that Morris tells you all he knows," he said, "but the pint is that he don't know everything."
"How's that?"
"The rangers is beginnin' to look sidewise an' whisper when Morris is around. He's played his game with us too long, an' the boys are startin' to think. Thinkin' is always dangerous."
"You seem to have been doin' some tall thinkin' yourself," said Silent drily; "you guess the cowpunchers are goin' on our trail on their own hook?"
"There ain't no doubt of it."
"Where'd you hear it?"
"Young Seaton."
"He's one of them?"
"Yes."
"I'll remember him. By the way, I see you got a little token of Whistlin' Dan on your arm."
He pointed to the bandage on Buck's right forearm.
"It ain't nothin'," said Buck, shrugging his shoulders. "The cuts are all healin' up. The arm's as good as ever now."
"Anyway," said Silent, "you got somethin' comin' to you for the play you made agin that devil."
He reached into his pocket, drew out several twenty dollar gold pieces (money was never scarce with a long rider) and passed them to Buck. The latter received the coin gingerly, hesitated, and then returned it to the hand of the chief.
"What the hell's the matter?" snarled the big outlaw. "Ain't it enough?"
"I don't want no money till I earn it," said Buck.
"Life's gettin' too peaceful for you, eh?" grinned Silent.
"Speakin' of peace," chimed in Purvis, with a liberal wink at the rest of the gang, "Buck allows he's the boy who c'n bring the dove o' the same into this camp. He says he knows the way to bring the girl over there to see reason."
Buck followed the direction of Purvis's eyes and saw Kate sitting on a rock at a little distance from the shanty in which she lived with her father. She made a pitiful figure, her chin cupped in her hand, and her eyes staring fixedly down the valley. He was recalled from her by the general laughter of the outlaws.
"You fellers laugh," he said complacently, "because you don't know no more about women than a cow knows about pictures."
"What do you think we should do with her, Solomon?" Buck met the cold blue eye of Haines.
"Maybe I ain't Solomon," he admitted genially, "but I don't need no million wives to learn all there is to know about women."
"Don't make a fool of yourself, Buck," said Silent. "There ain't no way of movin' that damn girl. She's gone on a hunger strike an' she'll die in it. We can't send her out of the valley. It's hell to have her dyin' on our hands here. But there ain't no way to make her change her mind. I've tried pleadin' with her—I've even offered her money. It don't do no good. Think of that!"
"Sure it don't," sneered Buck. "Why, you poor bunch of yearlin' calves, she don't need no coaxin'. What she needs is a manhandlin'. She wants a master, that's what she wants."
"I suppose," said Haines, "you think you're man enough to change her?"
"None of that!" broke in Silent. "D'you really think you could do somethin' with her, Buck?"
"Can I do somethin' with her?" repeated Buck scornfully. "Why, boys, there ain't nothin' I can't do with a woman."
"Is it because of your pretty face or your winnin' smile?" growled the deep bass of Bill Kilduff.
"Both!" said Buck, promptly. "The wilder they are the harder they fall for me. I've had a thirty-year old maverick eatin' out of my hand like she'd been trained for it all her life. The edyoucated ones say I'm 'different'; the old maids allow that I'm 'naive'; the pretty ones jest say I'm a 'man,' but they spell the word with capital letters."
"Daniels, you're drunk," said Haines.
"Am I? It'll take a better man than you to make me sober, Haines!"
The intervening men jumped back, but the deep voice of Silent rang out like a pistol shot: "Don't move for your six-guns, or you'll be playin' agin me!"
Haines transferred his glare to Silent, but his hand dropped from his gun. Daniels laughed.
"I ain't no mile post with a hand pointin' to trouble," he said gently. "All I say is that the girl needs excitement. Life's so damned dull for her that she ain't got no interest in livin'."
"If you're fool enough to try," said Silent, "go ahead. What are you plannin' to do?"
"You'll learn by watchin'," grinned Buck, taking the reins of his horse. "I'm goin' to ask the lady soft an' polite to step up to her cabin an' pile into some ham an' eggs. If she don't want to I'll rough her up a little, an' she'll love me for it afterwards!"
"The way she loves a snake!" growled Kilduff.
"By God, Silent," said Haines, his face white with emotion, "if Buck puts a hand on her I'll—"
"Act like a man an' not like a damn fool boy," said Silent, dropping a heavy hand on the shoulder of his lieutenant. "He won't hurt her none, Lee. I'll answer for that. Come on, Buck. Speakin' personal, I wish that calico was in hell."
Leading his horse, Buck followed Silent towards the girl. She did not move when they approached. Her eyes still held far down the valley. The steps of the big outlaw were shorter and shorter as they drew close to the girl. Finally he stopped and turned to Buck with a gesture of resignation.
"Look at her! This is what she's been doin' ever since yesterday. Buck, it's up to you to make good. There she is!"
"All right," said Buck, "it's about time for you amachoors to exit an' leave the stage clear for the big star. Now jest step back an' take notes on the way I do it. In fifteen minutes by the clock she'll be eatin' out of my hand."
Silent, expectant but baffled, retired a little. Buck removed his hat and bowed as if he were in a drawing-room.
"Ma'am," he said, "I got the honour of askin' you to side-step up to the shanty with me an' tackle a plate of ham an' eggs. Are you on?"
To this Chesterfieldian outpouring of the heart, she responded with a slow glance which started at Buck's feet, travelled up to his face, and then returned to the purple distance down the canyon. In spite of himself the tell- tale crimson flooded Buck's face. Far away he caught the muffled laughter of the outlaws. He replaced his hat.
"Don't make no mistake," he went on, his gesture including the bandits in the background, and Silent particularly, "I ain't the same sort as these other
