to believe; I hardly know what to think. I can
only speak as my instinct guides me. Oh, Mr. Tresler, I--I can trust
you. Yes--I know I can."

The girl's appeal had its effect. Tresler reached up and caught the
little outstretched hands.

"Yes, you can trust me, Miss Marbolt," he said with infinite kindness.
"You have done the very best thing you could have done. You have given
me your confidence--a trouble that I can see has caused you ages of
unhappiness. I confess you have opened up suspicions that seem almost
preposterous, but you----" He broke off, and stood gazing down
thoughtfully at the two hands he still held clasped within his. Then
he seemed to become suddenly aware of the position, and, with a slight
laugh, released them. "Pardon me," he said, glancing up into the
troubled eyes with a kindly smile. "I was dreaming. Come, let us
return to the ranch. It is time. It will be pleasant riding in the
cool. By Jove, I begin to think that it is more than possible I owe
Jake considerable gratitude after all."

"You owe him nothing," answered Diane, with angry emphasis. "You owe
him nothing but obedience as a ranch hand, and that you will have to
pay him. For the rest, avoid him as you would a pest."

Tresler sprang into the saddle, and the horses ambled leisurely off in
the direction of the ranch. And, as he rode, he set aside all thoughts
of Jake and of Red Mask. He thought only of the girl herself, of her
delightful companionship.

His steady-going horse, with due regard for the sex of his companion,
allowed Bess to lead him by a neck. He traveled amiably by her side,
every now and then raising his nose as though to bite his spirited
little companion, but it was only pretense. Nor did Tresler urge him
faster. He preferred that they should travel thus. He could gaze to
his heart's content upon Diane without displaying rudeness. He could
watch the trim, erect figure, poised so easily and gracefully upon the
saddle. She rode like one born to the saddle, and by the gait of her
mare, he could see that her hands were of the lightest, yet firm and
convincing to the high-mettled animal they controlled.

The girl was a perfect picture as she rode; her rich, dark hair was
loosely coiled, and several waving ringlets had fluffed loose with the
breeze and motion of riding, and strayed from the shadow of her wide
hat. Tresler's thoughts went back to his home; and, he told himself,
none of the horsewomen he had known could h