right;
then the pleasant blue eyes hardened as their vision swept beyond
toward Hampton.

"It is extremely kind of you, I 'm sure," she said at last. "Why is it
I am to be thus honored?"

The girl backed partially off the doorstep, her hair flapping in the
wind, her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, you need n't put on so much style about it," she blurted out.
"You 're Mrs. Herndon, ain't you? Well, then, this is the place where
I was sent; but I reckon you ain't no more particular about it than I
am. There's others."

"Who sent you to me?" and Mrs. Herndon came forth into the sunshine.

"The preacher."

"Oh, Mr. Wynkoop; then you must be the homeless girl whom Lieutenant
Brant brought in the other day. Why did you not say so at first? You
may come in, my child."

There was a sympathetic tenderness apparent now in the tones of her
voice, which the girl was swift to perceive and respond to, yet she
held back, her independence unshaken. With the quick intuition of a
woman, Mrs. Herndon bent down, placing one hand on the defiant shoulder.

"I did not understand, at first, my dear," she said, soothingly, "or I
should never have spoken as I did. Some very strange callers come
here. But you are truly welcome. I had a daughter once; she must have
been nearly your age when God took her. Won't you come in?"

While thus speaking she never once glanced toward the man standing in
silence beyond, yet as the two passed through the doorway together he
followed, unasked. Once within the plainly furnished room, and with
her arm about the girl's waist, the lines about her mouth hardened. "I
do not recall extending my invitation to you," she said, coldly.

He remained standing, hat in hand, his face shadowed, his eyes
picturing deep perplexity.

"For the intrusion I offer my apology," he replied, humbly; "but you
see I--I feel responsible for this young woman. She--sort of fell to
my care when none of her own people were left to look after her. I
only came to show her the way, and to say that I stand ready to pay you
well to see to her a bit, and show her how to get hold of the right
things."

"Indeed!" and Mrs. Herndon's voice was not altogether pleasant. "I
understood she was entirely alone and friendless. Are you that man who
brought her out of the canyon?"

Hampton bowed as though half ashamed of acknowledging the act.

"Oh! then I know who you are," she continued, unhesitatingly. "You are
a gambler and a bar-r