g Dan?"

"Yes," he said, "I saw him do some very nice shooting."

"It's about him that I want to speak to you. Mr. Lee, he knows very
little about men and their ways. He is almost a child among them. You
seem--stronger--than most of the crowd here. Will you see that if
trouble comes he is not imposed upon?"

She flushed a little, there was such a curious yearning in the eyes of
the big man.

"If you wish it," he said simply, "I will do what I can."

As he walked beside her towards her horse, she turned to him abruptly.

"You are very different from the men I have met around here," she
said.

"I am glad," he answered.

"Glad?"

"If you find me different, you will remember me, whether for better or
worse."

He spoke so earnestly that she grew grave. He helped her to the saddle
and she leaned a little to study him with the same gentle gravity.

"I should like to see you again, Mr. Lee," she said, and then in a
little outburst, "I should like to see you a _lot!_ Will you come to
my house sometime?"

The directness, the sudden smile, made him flinch. His voice was a
trifle unsteady when he replied.

"I _shall!_" He paused and his hand met hers. "If it is possible."

Her eyebrows raised a trifle.

"Is it so hard to do?"

"Do not ask me to explain," he said, "I am riding a long way."

"Oh, a 'long-rider'!" she laughed, "then of course--" She stopped
abruptly. It may have been imagination, but he seemed to start when
she spoke the phrase by which outlaws were known to each other. He was
forcing his eyes to meet hers.

He said slowly: "I am going on a long journey. Perhaps I will come
back. If I am able to, I shall."

He dropped his hand from hers and she remained silent, guessing at
many things, and deeply moved, for every woman knows when a man speaks
from his soul.

"You will not forget me?"

"I shall never forget you," she answered quietly. "Good-bye, Mr. Lee!"

Her hand touched his again, she wheeled, and rode away. He remained
standing with the hand she had grasped still raised. And after a
moment, as he had hoped, she turned in the saddle and waved to him.
His eyes were downward and he was smiling faintly when he re-entered
the saloon.

Silent sat at a table with his chin propped in his hand--his left
hand, of course, for that restless right hand must always be free. He
stared across the room towards Whistling Dan. The train of thoughts
which kept those ominous eyes so unmoving must be brok