I done something to make
you mad?"

"No, you haven't." There was a rough edge to the words, put there by
suppressed emotion. "You know better 'n that. I keep away from you
because--because I acted like a yellow dog."

"When you fought Bandy Walker to keep clean my good name?" she asked in a
murmur.

"Oh, that!" He waved her question aside as of no importance.

"Or when you fought the mad dog in the street with yore bare hands?"

"You know when, June," he answered bitterly. "When I let Jake Houck walk
off with you to save my worthless hide."

"I've forgotten that, Bob," she said gently. "So much has happened since.
That was foolishness anyhow, what--what we did in Blister's office. But I
hate to give up the boy on Piceance Creek who was kinda like a brother to
me. Do I have to lose him?"

There was no need for her big dark eyes to plead with him. His face was
working. He bit his lip to keep from breaking down. This was what he
wanted more than anything else in the world, but he was embarrassed and
irritated at the display of emotion he could not wholly control.

"'S all right with me," he said gruffly.

"Then we'll be friends again, won't we?"

"Ump-ha!" he grunted. "I--I'd just as lief." He recognized this as
cavalier and added: "I mean it's awful good of you."

"When you come back you won't forget to ask for me if I'm not where you
see me. I'll want to hear all about what you do."

"Yes," he promised; and in a burst of gratitude cried: "You're a dandy
girl, June. If you treated me like I deserved you'd never speak to me
again."

She flushed. "That's silly. I never did feel thataway. Lots of times I've
wanted to tell you that--that it needn't make any difference. But I
couldn't, 'count of--what we did in Blister's office. A girl has to be
awful careful, you know. If we hadn't done that foolish thing--"

"A judge'll fix you up with papers settin' you free, June," he told her.
"I'll do anything to help that you want."

"Well, when you come back," she postponed. Talk on that subject
distressed and humiliated her.

"I got to go," he said. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

She gave him her hand shyly. Their eyes met and fell away.

He stood a moment, trying to find an effective line of exit. He had
missed his cue to leave, as thousands of lovers have before and since.

"Got to hit the trail," he murmured in anticlimax.

"Yes," she agreed.

Bob drew back one foot and ducked his head in a bow. A moment late