stranger passed down the street. The
curious saw him pass in at the mayor's gate and knock at the door. It
opened presently, and disclosed a flash of white, which they knew to be
the skirt of a girl.

"I reckon that's Miss 'Lissie," the others were informed by the unshaven
one. "She's let him in and shet the door."

Inevitably there followed speculation as to who the arrival might be. That
his coming had something to do with the affair of the West kidnapping, all
were disposed to agree; but just what it might have to do with it, none of
them could do more than guess. If they could have heard what passed
between Melissy and the stranger, their curiosity would have been
gratified.

"Good mornin', miss. Is Mayor Lee at home?"

"No--he isn't. He hasn't got back yet. Is there anything I can do for
you?"

Two rows of even white teeth flashed in a smile. "I thought maybe there
was something I could do for you. You are Miss Lee, I take it?"

"Yes. But I don't quite understand--unless you have news."

"I have no news--yet."

"You mean----" Her eager glance swept over him. The brown eyes, which had
been full of questioning, flashed to understanding. "You are not
Lieutenant O'Connor?"

"Am I not?" he smiled.

"I mean--are you?"

"At your service, Miss Lee."

She had heard for years of this lieutenant of rangers, who was the terror
of all Arizona "bad men." Her father, Jack Flatray, the range riders whom
she knew--game men all--hailed Bucky O'Connor as a wonder. For coolness
under fire, for acumen, for sheer, unflawed nerve, and for his skill in
that deadly game he played of hunting down desperadoes, they called him
chief ungrudgingly. He was a daredevil, who had taken his life in his
hands a hundred times. Yet always he came through smiling, and brought
back with him the man he went after. The whisper ran that he bore a
charmed life, so many had been his hairbreadth escapes.

"Come in," the girl invited. "Father said, if you came, I was to keep you
here until he got back or sent a messenger for you. He's hunting for the
criminals in the Roaring Fork country. Of course, he didn't know when you
would get here. At the time he left we hadn't been able to catch you on
the wire. I signed Mr. Flatray's name at his suggestion, because he was in
correspondence with you once about the Roaring Fork outlaws. He is out in
the hills, too. He started half an hour after the kidnappers. But he isn't
armed. I'm troubled about him.