y.

"Perhaps they are all right, and yet all wrong too."

He looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe they don't see the other side of you" said Phyllis gently.

"How do you know there's another side?"

"I don't know how, but I do."

"I reckon it must be a right puny one."

"It has a good deal to fight against, hasn't it?"

"You're right it has. There's a devil in me that gets up on its hind
legs and strangles what little good it finds. But it certainly beats me
how you know so much that goes on inside a sweep like me."

"You forget. I'm not very good myself. You know my temper runs away with
me, too."

"You blessed lamb!" she heard him say under his breath; and the way he
said it made the exclamation half a groan.

For her naive confession emphasized the gulf between them. Yet it
pleased him mightily that she linked herself with him as a fellow
wrongdoer.

"I suppose you've been wondering why your people have made no attempt to
rescue you," he said presently; for he saw her eyes were turned toward
the hills beyond which lay her home.

"I'm glad they haven't, because it must have made trouble; but I _am_
surprised," she confessed.

"They have tried it--twice," he told her. "First time was Saturday
morning, just before daylight. We trapped them as they were coming
through the Box Canon. I knew they would come down that way, because it
was the nearest; so I was ready for them."

"And what happened?" Her dilated eyes were like those of a stricken doe.

"Nothing that time. I let them see I had them caught. They couldn't go
forward or back. They laid down their arms, and took the back trail.
There was no other way to escape being massacred."

"And the second time?"

Buck hesitated. "There was shooting that time. It was last night. My
riders outnumbered them and had cover. We drove them back."

"Anybody hurt?" cried Phyllis.

"One of them fell. But he got up and ran limping to his horse, I figured
he wasn't hurt badly."

"Was he--could you tell--" She leaned against the rock wall for support.

"No--I didn't know him. He was a young fellow. But you may be sure he
wasn't hit mortally. I know, because I shot him myself."

"You!" She drew back in a sudden sick horror of him.

"Why not?" he answered doggedly. "They were shooting at me--aiming to
kill, too. I shot low on purpose, when I might have killed him."

"Oh, I must go home--I must go home!" she moaned.

"I've got the sheriff's