u sent
to him?" She nodded. "Well, we found it on the floor of his room,
covered with dust. He hadn't even troubled to pick it up from where it
must have fallen weeks ago."

She looked at him dumbly, unable to keep her lips from twitching. He
knew that she believed him, and he was glad; that she had to believe
him, because his story bore the impress of truth. It was not something
that he could have made up.

"And while your picture was lying there, Wade and this Purnell girl were
making goo-goo eyes at each other. Why, it was she that rode out to warn
him that we were after Santry." Helen's lips curled. "I can't swear to
that, but I heard it and I believe it myself. They must've met on the
trail somewhere in the dark, and you can bet he was grateful. I don't
imagine that they stopped at a hand-shake. I imagine they kissed, don't
you?"

"Oh, I'm tired, worn out," Helen declared, forcing a smile so artificial
that it could not deceive him. "Do go, please. I am going upstairs to
bed."

"Wait one minute." He put out his injured arm, and, thinking that he
reached for her hand, she brushed it aside, accidentally striking his
wound.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," she said coldly, as he winced.

"Maybe I've hurt you worse," he persisted, with a tenderness that was
intolerable to her, "but, if I have, your wound'll heal just as mine
will." He gently pushed her back into her chair as she started to get
up.

"Are you making love to me, Race?" Under the ridicule of her tone his
face darkened. "If you are, it's insufferable in you."

"Go easy, now," he warned her. "I'll not be made a fool of."

She did not heed his warning. Glad to have him on the rack, where she
had been, she laughed at him.

"Haven't you sense enough to know that, for that very reason, I'd refuse
to believe anything you might say against Gordon Wade? I know how you
hate him. Listen to me. Oh, this is absurd!" She laughed again at the
picture he made. "You've pursued me for months with your attentions,
although I've done everything but encourage you. Now I want you to know
that I shall never again even listen to you. What Gordon is to Dorothy
Purnell is for him, and her, and perhaps for me to be interested in, but
not for you. Now I'm going to bed. Good night!"

He caught her by the arm as she stood up, but immediately released her,
and stepped in front of her instead.

"Hold on," he begged, with a smile that meant wonderful mastery of
himself. "I've