his questioning, he intended going to sleep. For several minutes Sheila
watched him with a growing curiosity. It was like a man to ask all and
give nothing. He had questioned her to his complete satisfaction but had
told nothing of himself. She was determined to discover something about
him.

"Who are you?" she questioned.

"Dakota," he said shortly.

"Dakota?" she repeated, puzzled. "That isn't a name; it's a State--or a
Territory."

"I'm Dakota. Ask anybody." There was a decided drawl in his voice.

This information was far from being satisfactory, but she supposed it must
answer. Still, she persisted. "Where are you from?"

"Dakota."

That seemed to end it. It had been a short quest and an unsatisfactory
one. It was perfectly plain to her that he was some sort of a rancher--at
the least a cowboy. It was also plain that he had been a cowboy before
coming to this section of the country--probably in Dakota. She was
perplexed and vexed and nibbled impatiently at her lips.

"Dakota isn't your real name," she declared sharply.

"Ain't it?" There came the drawl again. It irritated her this time.

"No!" she snapped.

"Well, it's as good as any other. Good-night."

Sheila did not answer. Five minutes later she was asleep.

CHAPTER II

THE DIM TRAIL

Sheila had been dreaming of a world in which there was nothing but rain
and mud and clouds and reckless-eyed individuals who conversed in
irritating drawls when a sharp crash of thunder awakened her. During her
sleep she had turned her face to the wall, and when her eyes opened the
first thing that her gaze rested on was the small window above her head.
She regarded it for some time, following with her eyes the erratic streams
that trickled down the glass, stretching out wearily, listening to the
wind. It was cold and bleak outside and she had much to be thankful for.

She was glad that she had not allowed the mysterious inhabitant of the
cabin to sleep out in his tarpaulin, for the howling of the wind brought
weird thoughts into her mind; she reflected upon her helplessness and it
was extremely satisfying to know that within ten feet of her lay a man
whose two big revolvers--even though she feared them--seemed to insure
protection. It was odd, she told herself, that she should place so much
confidence in Dakota, and her presence in the cabin with him was certainly
a breach of propriety which--were her friends in the East to hear of
it--would arouse muc