These French breeds go crazy when they're mad--an' he'll either lay
for you just to get even, or he'll see that he gets the right dope
next time--an' maybe you know what that means, an' maybe you
don't--but I do."

The girl nodded, and as the horses scrambled up the steep slope of a
low divide, her eyes sought the hundred and one hiding places among
the loose rocks and scrub that might easily conceal a lurking enemy,
and she shuddered. As they topped the divide, both reined in and sat
gazing silently down the little valley before them. It was the place
of their first meeting, when the girl, tired, and lost and
discouraged, had dismounted upon that very spot and watched the
unknown horseman with his six-shooter, and his brown leather jug
slowly ascend the slope. She glanced at him now, as he sat, rugged and
lean, with his eyes on the little valley. He was just the same, grave
and unsmiling, as upon the occasion of their first meeting. She
noticed that he held his Stetson in his hand, and that the wind
rippled his hair. "Just the same," she thought--and yet--. She was
aware that her heart was pounding strangely, and that instead of a
fear of this man, she was conscious of a wild desire to throw herself
into his arms and cry with her face against the bandage that bulged
the shirt sleeve just below the shoulder.

"I call this Lost Creek," said Holland, without turning his head. "I
come here often--" and added, confusedly, "It's a short cut from my
camp to the trail."

Patty felt an overpowering desire to laugh. She tried to think of
something to say: "I--I thought you were a desperado," she murmured,
and giggled nervously.

"An' I thought you was a schoolma'am. I guess I was the first to
change my mind, at that."

Patty felt herself blushing furiously for no reason at all: "But--I
have changed my mind--or I wouldn't be here, now."

Vil Holland nodded: "I expect I'll ride to town from Samuelson's. My
jug's empty, an' I guess I might's well file that homestead 'fore
someone else beats me to it. I've got a hunch maybe I'll be rollin' up
that cabin--before snow flies."

CHAPTER XVII

UNMASKED

At the Samuelson's ranch they found not only the doctor but Len
Christie. Mr. Samuelson's condition had taken a sudden turn for the
better and it was a jubilant little group that welcomed Patty as she
rode up to the veranda. Vil Holland had muttered an excuse and gone
directly to the bunk house where the doctor soug