canted his ear to get the answer and already they were
grinning expectantly.

"I don't go out much," returned the soft voice of Dan, "an' when I do,
I go with my friend, here. He takes care of me."

Another thunder of laughter broke out. Jacqueline had apparently
uncovered a tenderfoot, and a rare one even for that absurd species. A
sandy-haired cattle puncher who sat close to Jacqueline now took the
cue from the mistress of the house.

"Ain't you a bit scared when you get around among real men?" he asked,
leering up the table towards Dan.

The latter smiled gently upon him.

"I reckon maybe I am," he said amiably.

"Then you must be shakin' in your boots right now," said the other
over the sound of the laughter.

"No, said Dan," "I feel sort of comfortable."

The other replied with a frown that would have intimidated a balky
horse.

"What d'you mean? Ain't you jest said men made you sort of--nervous?"

He imitated the soft drawl of Dan with his last words and raised
another yell of delight from the crowd. Whistling Dan turned his
gentle eyes upon Jacqueline.

"Pardon me, ma'am," he began.

An instant hush fell on the men. They would not miss one syllable of
the delightful remarks of this rarest of all tenderfoots, and the
prelude of this coming utterance promised something that would eclipse
all that had gone before.

"Talk right out, Brown-eyes," said Jacqueline, wiping the tears of
delight from her eyes. "Talk right out as if you was a man. _I_ won't
hurt you."

"I jest wanted to ask," said Dan, "if these are real men?"

The ready laughter started, checked, and died suddenly away. The
cattlemen looked at each other in puzzled surprise.

"Don't they look like it to you, honey?" asked Jacqueline curiously.

Dan allowed his eyes to pass lingeringly around the table from face to
face.

"I dunno," he said at last, "they look sort of queer to me."

"For God's sake cut this short, Dan," pleaded Tex Calder in an
undertone. "Let them have all the rope they want. Don't trip up our
party before we get started."

"Queer?" echoed Jacqueline, and there was a deep murmur from the men.

"Sure," said Dan, smiling upon her again, "they all wear their guns so
awful high."

Out of the dead silence broke the roar of the sandy-haired man:
"What'n hell d'you mean by that?"

Dan leaned forward on one elbow, his right hand free and resting on
the edge of the table, but still his smile was almost a caress.

"