ti he had been irresistibly drawn toward the Bar B
ranchhouse. He had told himself as he rode that the impulse to visit her
this night was strong within him because on his way to the pueblo he was
forced to pass the house, but he knew better--he had lied to himself. He
wanted to talk with her again; he wanted to show her the land record,
which proved her fiance's guilt; he wanted to watch her as she looked at
the record, to learn from her face--what he might find there.

He stood the rifle against the wall near the door, while the girl and her
aunt watched him, breathlessly. His voice was vibrant and hoarse, but well
under control, and he smiled with straight lips as he set the rifle down
and drew the record from his waistband.

"I've something to show you, Miss Benham. I couldn't pass the house
without letting you know what has happened." He opened the book and
stepped to her side, swinging his left hand up, the index finger
indicating a page on which his name appeared.

"Look!" he said, sharply, and watched her face closely. He saw her cheeks
blanch, and set his lips grimly.

"Why," she said, after she had hurriedly scanned the page; "it seems to
prove your title! But this is a court record, isn't it?" She examined the
gilt lettering on the back of the volume, and looked up at him with wide,
luminous eyes. "Where did you get that book?"

"From the courthouse."

"Why, I thought people weren't permitted to take court records--"

"I've taken this one," he laughed.

She looked at the blood on his hand, shudderingly. "Why," she said;
"there's been violence! The fire, the blood on your hand, the record, your
ride here--What does it mean?"

"It means that I've been denied my rights, and I've taken them. Is there
any crime in that? Look here!" He took another step and stood looking down
at her. "I'm not saying anything about Corrigan. You know what we think of
each other, and we'll fight it out, man to man. But the fact that a woman
is engaged to one man doesn't bar another man from the game. And I'm in
this game to the finish. And even if I don't get you I don't want you to
be mixed up in these schemes and plots--you're too good a girl for that!"

"What do you mean?" She stiffened, looking scornfully at him, her chin
held high, outraged innocence in her manner. His cold grin of frank
disbelief roused her to furious indignation. What right had he to question
her integrity to make such speeches to her after his disgr