she said scornfully, "so long as there are men in the world I suppose women do not need nerve. I suppose you mean to infer that it was a good thing for me that a man happened to be near?"
"Men are sort of handy—sometimes," he grinned.
"Well," she ordered, looking coldly at him, "catch my, horse, and don't stand there trying to be amusing. That is not what Father employs you for, is it?"
He bowed, smiled, kicked the black horse in the ribs, and rode down the aisle toward the point where Silver had disappeared.
The girl watched him until he could no longer be seen, and then she again seated herself on the fallen tree trunk and gazed reflectively at the dead body of the wolf.
And now that he had gone, and she was left with the memory of her experience, she realized that, even though he had been employed to watch her, he had rendered valuable service; and that he had been as delicate in his espionage as had been possible.
And he certainly was gentlemanly— for a cowboy; and — hadn't she been a little too severe? He had done what he had been ordered to do — and had done it well; and she had censured him when he deserved commendation.
So her thoughts ran, with the result that when the man reappeared a little later, leading the recreant Silver, her rnanner toward her rescuer was slightly more gracious. She even smiled at him when he offered to help her mount the horse. And then, when she was in the saddle, and he was lounging in his own, watching her gravely, she said:
"As long as I know you are watching me, I suppose you might as well ride with me. Have you any special orders regarding me?"
At his slow negative she resumed:
"Father warned me against going to the Three Bar. But there is still time, and I am going there. I want you to go with me. That will take the edge off Father's displeasure when he discovers I disregarded his warning. Do you know Beaudry Rand?"
A nod was her answer. It was accompanied by a swift, intent glance, as though he was speculating over her.
"Then you can introduce me!" she said, laughing. "It will be decidedly novel to be formally presented to an outlaw!"
He grinned. "I expect it will, ma'am."
She looked around, perplexity in her eyes.
"I really believe I am lost!" she said. "I have no sense of direction since — since that beast came upon me."
Silently he urged the black horse out of the clearing and sent it westward through the timber. Eleanor, after glancing sharply around, smiled, for she had not really lost her sense of direction — she had merely wanted the man to ride ahead of her so that upon him would rest the burden of finding the trail. For she was tired, though determined to go to the Three Bar — and she wanted to look at the man, for he interested her.
She did not let him get very far in advance of her — there were times when the head of her horse was at the withers of the black. But the man paid no attention to her — seemingly. He rode onward, silent, looking straight ahead; and his apparent lack of interest in her soon irritated her.
She spoke almost sharply to him at last, resentment plain in her voice:
"Are you sure you are going in the right direction?"
"Pretty sure," came the answer. Still he did not look around.
For a time the solemn silence of the forest was not broken except by the whipping tread of their horses' hoofs. Again the man's detached attitude provoked the girl to speech.
"Did Father tell you not to talk to me?" she demanded.
"No."
Silence for a hundred yards. Then —
"Do you know Beaudry Rand well?"
"Pretty well."
"Is he really an outlaw?"
"Some say he is."
"And you — what is your opinion?"
"I ain't expressin' it."
"Oh — you aren't! Well, you have one, I presume?"
"Yes."
"But you won't express it. How odd! I suppose that is because you are afraid Rand would shoot you if he heard you had talked about him?" There was much sarcasm in her voice, provoked by the man's obvious reluctance to talk with her.
He laughed, and his voice floated back to her:
"I ain't afraid of Rand shootin' me."
She believed him. But that conviction did not lessen her resentment. And she persisted, determined to make him talk.
"But Rand is considered a dangerous man, isn't he? That is, I mean he has the reputation of being a gunfighter — a cattle rustler, a horse thief, and a stage robber?"
"There's folks that think that about him, I reckon. Who was tellin' you?"
"My father told me," she answered. "He said that Rand was suspected of doing all those things, though there was no evidence against him. The stealing began about the time Rand bought the Three Bar. Link Compton has organized a vigilance committee to endeavor to get evidence against Rand."
This did not seem to interest her escort, for he did not answer, nor did he turn his head. When they began to approach the edge of the timber, and the trail grew wider, she spurred her horse beside his and looked furtively at him. He paid no attention to her—his attitude being that of the respectful employee whose business it was to speak when spoken to.
There was a flash of malice in her eyes—humorous malice. For he was so strikingly good-looking that she suspected he would betray condescension toward those of his fellows less generously endowed by nature. She had heard women make "cattish" remarks about other women, and she supposed men were not unlike her own sex in that regard. At least, if her escort had a weak point it was likely to be just here — and it was worth a trial.
"What do you think of Rand — his appearance, I mean. Is he good-looking or ugly?"
"I'd say he was good-lookin'," he answered, flashing a sharp glance at her.
She was disappointed, for he had not spoken the derogatory word she had expected. Also, she was resentful, for she had wanted him to exhibit a very human trait, and he had not done so.
"That is remarkable," she said.
"What is?" Again his glance rested on her — fleeting; she could not fathom it.
"That you seem to think he is good-looking. Father has a decidedly opposite opinion. Shall I tell you what Father says about him — about his appearance?"
"I ain't particular."
"No-o? Well, perhaps you have heard Father describe him. Father says"—she remembered the words well; she felt she would never forget them—" Rand is a skinny, ugly gawk, with pink hair and an eye like a fish. He's tall and awkward, with a pigeon chest and a woman's waist. He's got a nose like an eagle's
