urning under his direct look. "Do you--do you
really want to know what I think?" she said.

"I do." There was something uncompromising in the brief rejoinder, yet
somehow she did not find him formidable.

She answered him without difficulty in spite of her embarrassment. "I
think, then, that it isn't you yourself at all that I feel like that
about. It's just your profession."

"Ah!" He began to smile again. "Once live down that, and I might be
possible. Is that it?"

She nodded, still flushed, yet curiously not uneasy. "Something like
that. Why can't you be a farmer like Jack?"

"I wish I were," he said, unexpectedly.

"Why?" The word slipped out almost in spite of her, but she felt she must
have an answer.

He answered her with his eyes full on her. "Because I'd like to lead the
sort of life you would approve of," he said. "I've a notion it would be
worth while."

She turned aside from his look. "It's only a matter of opinion, of
course," she said.

"Is it?" he said. He turned his attention to the meal before him, and ate
rapidly for a few moments while he considered the matter. At length:
"Yes," he said. "I suppose you're right. Anyhow, you don't feel drawn
that way. You won't feel a bit pleased if Buckskin Bill gets caught by
the police this journey after this?"

Dot shook her head. "I don't think a man ought to be tracked down like a
wild beast," she said, resolutely.

The blue eyes that watched her kindled a little. He finished what was on
his plate and pushed it from him.

"I'm greatly obliged to you," he said, "for your hospitality. I needed
it--badly enough. You'll thank Jack for me, won't you? I must be going
now. But there's just one thing I'd like to say to you first."

He got up and stood before her. It was impossible not to admire his
splendid height and breadth of chest. He could have lifted her easily
with one hand. And yet, strangely, though she felt his power he did not
make her aware of her own weakness.

She looked up at him. "Yes? What is it?"

"Just this, Miss Burton," he said, and somehow he lingered over the name
in a fashion that made it sound musical in her ears. "I'd like to strike
a bargain with you--because you've made a sort of impression on me. I'm
not meaning any impertinence. You know that?"

"Go on!" she whispered, almost inaudibly.

He went on, bending slightly towards her. "The odds are dead against
Buckskin Bill escaping, but--he may escape. If he does, will you-