ere came over her now a swift change. Every feature
of her, the tense pose, the manner of defiant courage, softened
indescribably. She was no longer an enemy bent on his destruction but a
girl pleading for the father she loved.

"Why do you do it? You are a man. You want to fight fair. Tell me he is
well. Tell me you will set him free."

He forgot for the moment that he was a man with the toils of the law
closing upon him, forgot that his success and even his liberty were at
stake. He saw only a girl with the hunger of love in her wistful eyes, and
knew that it lay in his power to bring back the laughter and the light
into them.

"Suppose I can't fight fair any longer. Suppose I've let myself get
trapped and it isn't up to me but to somebody else."

"How do you mean?"

"Up to your father, say."

"My father?"

"Yes. How could I turn him loose when the first thing he did would be to
swear out a warrant for my arrest?"

"But he wouldn't--not if you freed him."

He laughed harshly. "I thought you knew him. He's hard as nails."

She recognized the justice of this appraisal. "But he is generous too. He
stands by his friends."

"I'm not his friend, not so you could notice it." He laughed again,
bitterly. "Not that it matters. Of course I was just putting a case.
Nothing to it really."

He was hedging because he thought he had gone too far, but she appeared
not to notice it. Her eyes had the faraway look of one who communes with
herself.

"If I could only see him and have a talk with him."

"What good would that do?" he pretended to scoff.

But he watched her closely nevertheless.

"I think I could get him to do as I ask. He nearly always does." Her gaze
went swiftly back to him. "Let me talk with him. There's a reason why he
ought to be free now, one that would appeal to him."

This was what he had come for, but now that she had met him half way he
hesitated. If she should not succeed he would be worse off than before. He
could neither hold her a prisoner nor free her to lead the pack of the law
to his hiding place. On the other hand if Cullison thought they intended
to keep her prisoner he would have to compromise. He dared not leave her
in the hands of Lute Blackwell. Fendrick decided to take a chance. At the
worst he could turn them both free and leave for Sonora.

"All right. I'll take you to him. But you'll have to do as I say."

"Yes," she agreed.

"I'm taking you to back my play. I tell you str