r her. Several times this was necessary.
Once he took the time to examine the thongs on her ankles, apparently
wishing to make sure that she was not uncomfortable. Once he looked up
into her sullenly distressed face and said, "Tired?" in a humanly
sympathetic tone that made her blink back the tears. She shook her
head and would not look at him. Al regarded her in silence for a
minute, led Snake to his own horse, mounted and rode on.

He was a murderer; he had undoubtedly killed many men. He would kill
her if she attempted to escape--"and he could not catch me," Lorraine
was just enough to add. Yet she felt baffled; cheated of the full
horror of being kidnapped.

She had no knowledge of a bad man who was human in spots without being
repentant. For love of a girl, she had been taught to believe, the
worst outlaw would weep over his past misdeeds, straighten his
shoulders, look to heaven for help and become a self-sacrificing hero
for whom audiences might be counted upon to shed furtive tears.

Al Woodruff, however, did not love her. His eyes had once or twice
softened to friendliness, but love was not there. Neither was
repentance there. He seemed quite satisfied with himself, quite ready
to commit further crimes for sake of his own safety or desire. He was
hard, she decided, but he was not unnecessarily harsh; cruel, without
being wantonly brutal. He was, in short, the strangest man she had
ever seen.

CHAPTER XXI

"OH, I COULD KILL YOU!"

Before sundown they reached the timber-land on Bear Top. The horses
slipped on the pine needles when Al left the trail and rode up a gentle
incline where the trees grew large and there was little underbrush. It
was very beautiful, with the slanting sun-rays painting broad yellow
bars across the gloom of the forest. In a little while they reached
the crest of that slope, and Lorraine, looking back, could only guess
at where the trail wound on among the trees lower down.

Birds called companionably from the high branches above them. A
nesting grouse flew chuttering out from under a juniper bush, alighted
a short distance away and went limping and dragging one wing before
them, cheeping piteously.

While Lorraine was wondering if the poor thing had hurt a leg in
lighting, Al clipped its head off neatly with a bullet from his
six-shooter, though Lorraine had not seen him pull the gun and did not
know he meant to shoot. The bird's mate whirred up and away th