t perceive how singular his
action might seem to an onlooker. She had a mass of hair that quickly
began to smooth out and brighten under his hand. He became absorbed in
his task and failed to see the approach of Larry King.

The cowboy was utterly amazed, and presently he grinned his delight.
Evidently the girl was all right and no longer to be feared.

"Wal, shore thet's fine," he drawled. "Neale, I always knowed you was a
lady's man." And Larry sat down beside them.

The girl's face was half hidden under the mass of hair, and her head was
lowered. Neale gave Larry a warning glance, meant to convey that he was
not to be funny.

"This is my cowboy friend, Larry Red King," said Neale. "He was with me
when I--I found you."

"Larry--Red--King," murmured the girl. "My name is--Allie."

Again Neale had penetrated into her close-locked mind. What she said
astounded him so that he dropped the brush and stared at Larry. And
Larry lost his grin; he caught a glimpse of her face, and his own grew
troubled.

"Allie--I shore--am glad to meet you," he said, and there was more
feeling in his voice than Neale had ever before heard. Larry was not
slow of comprehension. He began to talk in his drawling way. Neale heard
him with a smile he tried to hide, but he liked Larry the better for his
simplicity. This gun-throwing cowboy had a big heart.

Larry, however, did not linger for long. His attempts to get the girl
to talk grew weaker and ended; then, after another glance at the tragic,
wan face he got up and thoughtfully slouched away.

"So your name is Allie," said Neale. "Well, Allie what?"

She did not respond to one out of a hundred questions, and this query
found no lodgment in her mind.

"Will you braid your hair now?" he asked.

The answer was the low and monotonous negative, but, nevertheless, her
hands sought her hair and parted it, and began to braid it mechanically.
This encouraged Neale more than anything else; it showed him that there
were habits of mind into which he could turn her. Finally he got her to
walk along the brook and also to eat and drink.

At the end of that day he was more exhausted than he would have been
after a hard climb. Yet he was encouraged to think that he could get
some kind of passive unconscious obedience from her.

"Reckon you'd better stay over to-morrow," suggested Slingerland. His
concern for the girl could not have been greater had she been his own
daughter. "Allie--thet was her