o make public Panfilo Sanchez's death. Yes'm, I know
what it is to be afraid."

"I presume the law would hold you blameless," she said, thoughtfully.

"If there was any doubt about that it would be another matter entirely.
A Ranger can get away with a heap more than killing a Mexican. No! It's
up to you to say what I shall do."

"Let me think it over. Jose mustn't know to-day, that's certain."

"I'm in your hands."

They returned to the automobile in silence, but as they took their
seats Dave said:

"You're tired, ma'am. Won't you let me drive?"

"Can you?"

When he smiled his answer, Alaire was only too glad to give up the
wheel, for her nerves were indeed unsteady and she was grateful for an
opportunity to think out the best course to pursue in this unexpected
difficulty. Later, as she listened to Law's inconsequential talk with
Dolores and Jose, and watched the way he handled the car, she marveled
at his composure. She wondered if this man could have a heart.

It became evident to Dave, as the afternoon progressed, that they would
be very late in arriving at Las Palmas; for although he drove as
rapidly as he dared over such roads, the miles were long and the going
heavy. They were delayed, too, by a mishap that held them back for an
hour or two, and he began to fear that his hostess would feel in duty
bound to insist upon his spending the night at her home. To accept,
after his clash with Ed Austin, was of course impossible, and he
dreaded another explanation at this particular crisis.

That a crisis in their relations had arisen he felt sure. He had tried
to make plain his attitude of mind toward the killing of Panfilo
Sanchez, and the wisdom of his course thereafter, but he doubted if
Alaire understood the one or agreed with the other. Probably she
considered him inhuman, or, what was worse, cowardly in attempting to
avoid the consequences of his act. And yet he could not explain his
full anxiety to protect her good name without confessing to a deeper
interest in her than he dared. And his interest was growing by leaps
and bounds. This woman fascinated him; he was infatuated--bewitched by
her personality. To be near her affected him mentally and physically in
a way too extraordinary to analyze or to describe. It was as if they
were so sympathetically attuned that the mere sound of her voice set
his whole being into vibrant response, where all his life he had lain
mute. She played havoc with his resoluti