d of voices calling
for Vivian, the approach of hurrying footsteps. Mr. Crusoe stirred
uneasily. He would have willingly saved Vivian from the embarrassment
which he knew was bound to follow, but it had been impossible. Vivian's
heart beat wildly. Now, at least, they would understand that she had been
right all along; now, perhaps, they would no longer think her such a
coward!

Embarrassment did follow! Embarrassment and tears and explanations and not
a little ill-concealed amusement. For one long hour Vivian, in spite of
sympathy and understanding and genuine admiration, wished she had never
been born. In that hour she discovered that a finer courage is necessary
to admit a mistake and to begin anew than to besiege a hobo in a
root-cellar. But she proved equal to the task, and Mr. Crusoe in the part
he played showed himself the gentleman he really was. For when Vivian was
convinced that Mr. Crusoe had been given the key by Mr. Hunter, that he
had been told to fetch the papers, and that he really was trustworthy
after all, she dried her tears, donned a fresh middy, and went quite alone
to offer her apologies.

She found Mr. Crusoe by the bunk-house. He had shaved in the meantime,
and when Vivian saw his clean firm chin, she knew it was partly the
whiskers which had made her level the gun at him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Crusoe," she stammered. "You see, I thought you were just
a tramp, and at home we are always afraid of them. But I know now you
aren't. I know I've been wrong all the time, and--oh, I'm awfully glad the
gun didn't go off!"

Mr. Crusoe removed his battered old hat and offered his freshly-washed
hand.

"I'm glad, too, Miss Vivian," he said. "If it had, perhaps I couldn't have
told you how much pluck I think you've got stored away inside of you. And
as for your being suspicious of the likes o' me, I don't wonder a mite.
Only, you see, there are tramps and tramps. To the best of us, I guess
trampin' just means followin' roads that lead to shelters--to _homes_, you
see! And now you know I'm not the kind you thought I was, this here ranch
looks like a mighty good home to me."

"Then you won't go back to Cripple Creek?" asked Vivian. "If I were you
I'd stay right here."

"That's what I'm plannin' on," said Mr. Crusoe.

CHAPTER X

A LETTER FROM DOROTHY

"It seems an age, doesn't it, since we've had a real meeting," said the
founder of the Vigilantes, "and yet it's only nine weeks ago this very
iden