ce broke a little. "And I can't help him. I'm only a girl. He won't
listen to me. Besides, Dad won't let me have anything to do with him
because of the way he's acting. What Sam needs is a man friend, one just
as strong and determined as Soapy but one who is good and the right sort
of an influence."

"Are you picking me for that responsible friend who is to be such a
powerful influence for good?" Curly asked with a smile.

"Yes--yes, I am." She looked up at him confidently.

"Haven't you forgotten that little piece in the _Sentinel_? How does it
go? An example had ought to be made of the desperadoes, and all the rest
of it."

"I don't care what it says. I've seen you."

"So had the editor."

She waved his jests aside. "Oh, well! You've done wrong. What of that?
Can't I tell you are a man? And I don't care how much fun you make of me.
You're good too."

Curly met her on the ground of her own seriousness. "I'll tell you
something, Miss Laura. Maybe you'll be glad to know that the reason I'm
going to the horse ranch is to help Sam Cullison if I can."

He went on to tell her the whole story of what the Cullisons had done for
him. In all that he said there was not one word to suggest such a thing,
but Laura London's mind jumped the gaps to a knowledge of the truth that
Curly himself did not have. The young man was in love with Kate Cullison.
She was sure of it. Also, she was his ally in the good cause of romance.

When Curly walked back into the house, Stone laid down the paper he had
been reading.

"I see the _Sentinel_ hints that Mr. Curly Flandrau had better be
lynched," he jeered.

"The _Sentinel_ don't always hit the bull's-eye, Soapy," returned the
young man evenly. "It thinks I belong to the Soapy Stone outfit, but we
know I haven't that honor."

"There's no such outfit--not in the sense he means," snapped the man on
the lounge. "What are your plans? Where you going to lie low? Picked a
spot yet?"

"I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on the way," Curly assured him
gaily.

Soapy frowned at him under the heavy eyebrows that gave him so menacing an
effect.

"Better come back with me to the ranch till you look around."

"Suits me right down to the ground if it does you."

Someone came whistling into the house and opened the door of the room. He
was a big lank fellow with a shotgun in his hands. "From Missouri" was
stamped all over his awkward frame. He stood staring at his unexpected
guests. His