she
had white teeth.

Duane took her proffered hand and remarked frankly that he was glad to
meet her.

Mrs. Bland appeared pleased; and her laugh, which followed, was loud and
rather musical.

"Mr. Duane--Buck Duane, Euchre said, didn't he?" she asked.

"Buckley," corrected Duane. "The nickname's not of my choosing."

"I'm certainly glad to meet you, Buckley Duane," she said, as she took
the seat Duane offered her. "Sorry to have been out. Kid Fuller's lying
over at Deger's. You know he was shot last night. He's got fever to-day.
When Bland's away I have to nurse all these shot-up boys, and it
sure takes my time. Have you been waiting here alone? Didn't see that
slattern girl of mine?"

She gave him a sharp glance. The woman had an extraordinary play of
feature, Duane thought, and unless she was smiling was not pretty at
all.

"I've been alone," replied Duane. "Haven't seen anybody but a
sick-looking girl with a bucket. And she ran when she saw me."

"That was Jen," said Mrs. Bland. "She's the kid we keep here, and she
sure hardly pays her keep. Did Euchre tell you about her?"

"Now that I think of it, he did say something or other."

"What did he tell you about me?" bluntly asked Mrs. Bland.

"Wal, Kate," replied Euchre, speaking for himself, "you needn't worry
none, for I told Buck nothin' but compliments."

Evidently the outlaw's wife liked Euchre, for her keen glance rested
with amusement upon him.

"As for Jen, I'll tell you her story some day," went on the woman. "It's
a common enough story along this river. Euchre here is a tender-hearted
old fool, and Jen has taken him in."

"Wal, seein' as you've got me figgered correct," replied Euchre, dryly,
"I'll go in an' talk to Jennie if I may."

"Certainly. Go ahead. Jen calls you her best friend," said Mrs. Bland,
amiably. "You're always fetching some Mexican stuff, and that's why, I
guess."

When Euchre had shuffled into the house Mrs. Bland turned to Duane with
curiosity and interest in her gaze.

"Bland told me about you."

"What did he say?" queried Duane, in pretended alarm.

"Oh, you needn't think he's done you dirt Bland's not that kind of a
man. He said: 'Kate, there's a young fellow in camp--rode in here on the
dodge. He's no criminal, and he refused to join my band. Wish he would.
Slickest hand with a gun I've seen for many a day! I'd like to see him
and Chess meet out there in the road.' Then Bland went on to tell how
you and Bosom