on I will proceed to forget that this letter ever existed."

"You may regret that you have acted in this generous manner," said the
girl. "What if you find that all your faith has been misplaced--that I
am not worthy of the trust--"

"Really, there is nothing to be gained by saying such things,"
interposed Lowell. "As I told you, I am forgetting that the letter ever
existed."

"Do you know," she said, "I wish this letter could have come back to me
from any one but you?"

"Why?"

"Because, coming as it has, I am more or less constrained to act as
fairly as you believe I shall act."

"You might give it back to Talpers and start in on any sort of a deal
you chose."

"Impossible! For fear Talpers may get it, here is what I shall do to the
letter."

Here Helen tore it in small pieces and tossed them high in the air, the
breeze carrying them about the yard like snow.

"In which event," laughed Lowell, "it seems that I win, and my faith in
you is to be justified."

"I wish I could assure you of as much," answered Helen sadly. "But if it
happens that your trust is not justified, I hope you will not think too
harshly of me."

"Harshly!" exclaimed Lowell. "Harshly! Why, if you practiced revolver
shooting on me an hour before breakfast every morning, or if you used me
for a doormat here at the Greek Letter Ranch, I couldn't think anything
but lovingly of you."

"Oh!" cried Helen, clapping her hands over her ears and running up the
porch steps, as Lowell turned to his automobile. "You've almost undone
all the good you've accomplished to-day."

"Thanks for that word 'almost,'" laughed Lowell.

"Then I'll make it 'quite,'" flung Helen, but her words were lost in the
shifting of gears as Lowell started back to the agency.

That night Helen dreamed that Bill Talpers, on hands and knees, was
moving like a misshapen shadow about the yard in the moonlight picking
up the letter which she had torn to pieces.

CHAPTER XIII

Sheriff Tom Redmond sat in Lowell's office at the agency, staring grimly
across at the little park, where the down from the cottonwood trees
clung to the grass like snow. The sheriff had just brought himself to a
virtual admission that he had been in the wrong.

"I was going to say," remarked Tom, "that, in case you catch Jim McFann,
perhaps the best thing would be for you to sort o' close-herd him at the
agency jail here until time for trial."

Lowell looked at the sheriff inquiringly.