mussed up."

The girl nodded.

"I--I think I know," she said quietly.

The man's face lit for a moment.

"I knew you would," he cried, in a burst of enthusiasm. Then the light
died out of his eyes again, and he shook his head. "But you can't," he
said hopelessly. "Nobody can, but--me. I love old Charlie."

"What does your head say?" asked Helen abruptly.

"My head?" The man released his knees and pushed back his hat, as
though for her to read for herself. "Guess my head says I best get
aboard a train quick, and get right back East where I came from,
and--stop there."

"And leave Charlie to his--fate?" suggested the girl.

The man nodded.

"That's what my head says."

"And your heart?"

Helen's gray eyes were very tender as they looked into the troubled
face beside her.

Bill's broad shoulders lifted, with the essence of nonchalance.

"Oh, that says get right up, and shut off the life of every feller at
the main who tries to do Charlie any hurt."

A sudden emotion stirred the girl at his side, and she turned her head
away lest he should see that which her eyes betrayed.

"The head is the wisest," she said without conviction.

But she was wholly unprepared for the explosion her words invoked.

"Then the head can be--damned!" Bill cried fiercely. And in a moment
the shadows seemed to fall from about him. He suddenly sprang up and
stood towering before her. "I knew if I talked to you about things
you'd fix me right," he cried, with passionate enthusiasm. "I tell you
my head's just a fool thing that generally butts in all wrong. You've
just made me see right. You're that wise and clever. And--and when I
get fixed like I've been, I'll always need to come to you. Say, there
isn't another girl in all the world as bright as you. I'm going to
stop right here, and I'll smash every blamed policeman to a pulp if he
lays hands on Charlie. Charlie may be what he is. I don't care. If he
needs help I'm here to give it. I tell you if Charlie goes to the
penitentiary I go with him. If they hang him, they'll hang me, too.
That's how your sister feels. That's how I feel. That's how----"

"I feel, too," put in Helen quickly. "Oh, you great Big Brother Bill,"
she went on, in her sudden joy and enthusiasm. "You're the loyalest
and best thing I ever knew. And--and if you aren't careful I'll--I'll
give you one of my daubs after all. Come along. Let's go and look at
the new church. Let's go and see how all the pious, whited