t afforded her relief to assure herself to the contrary.
The cowboy was one of a blood-letting breed; the hunter was a man of
thought, gentleness, humanity. This situation was one of the kind that
had made him despise the littleness of men. Helen assured herself
that he was different from her uncle and from the cowboy, in all the
relations of life which she had observed while with him. But a doubt
lingered in her mind. She remembered his calm reference to Snake Anson,
and that caused a recurrence of the little shiver Carmichael had given
her. When the doubt augmented to a possibility that she might not be
able to control Dale, then she tried not to think of it any more. It
confused and perplexed her that into her mind should flash a thought
that, though it would be dreadful for Carmichael to kill Beasley, for
Dale to do it would be a calamity--a terrible thing. Helen did not
analyze that strange thought. She was as afraid of it as she was of the
stir in her blood when she visualized Dale.

Her meditation was interrupted by Bo, who entered the room,
rebellious-eyed and very lofty. Her manner changed, which apparently
owed its cause to the fact that Helen was alone.

"Is that--cowboy gone?" she asked.

"Yes. He left quite some time ago," replied Helen.

"I wondered if he made your eyes shine--your color burn so. Nell, you're
just beautiful."

"Is my face burning?" asked Helen, with a little laugh. "So it is.
Well, Bo, you've no cause for jealousy. Las Vegas can't be blamed for my
blushes."

"Jealous! Me? Of that wild-eyed, soft-voiced, two-faced cow-puncher? I
guess not, Nell Rayner. What 'd he say about me?"

"Bo, he said a lot," replied Helen, reflectively. "I'll tell you
presently. First I want to ask you--has Carmichael ever told you how
he's helped me?"

"No! When I see him--which hasn't been often lately--he--I--Well, we
fight. Nell, has he helped you?"

Helen smiled in faint amusement. She was going to be sincere, but she
meant to keep her word to the cowboy. The fact was that reflection had
acquainted her with her indebtedness to Carmichael.

"Bo, you've been so wild to ride half-broken mustangs--and carry on with
cowboys--and read--and sew--and keep your secrets that you've had no
time for your sister or her troubles."

"Nell!" burst out Bo, in amaze and pain. She flew to Helen and seized
her hands. "What 're you saying?"

"It's all true," replied Helen, thrilling and softening. This sweet
sister,