s."

"He's had so much hard luck and been so long getting a start I don't
think you ought to ask him." The color spilled over her cheeks like wine
shaken from a glass upon a white cloth. Polly was always ardent on behalf
of a friend.

"I can't help that. There's another man I have in mind, but if I don't
get him it will be up to Jack."

"Will it be dangerous?"

"No more than smoking a cigarette above an open keg of powder. But you
don't suppose that would keep him from accepting the job, do you?"

"No," she admitted. "He would take it if he thought he ought. But I hope
you get the other man."

Billie dismissed the subject and drew up a chair beside the hammock in
which she was leaning back.

"This is my birthday, Polly," he told her. "I'm twenty-four years old."

"Good gracious! What a Methuselah!"

"I want a present, so I've come to ask for it."

With a sidelong tilt of her chin she flashed a look of quick eyes at him.
Her voice did not betray the pulse, of excitement that was beginning to
beat in her blood.

"You've just been elected sheriff. Isn't that enough?" she evaded.

"That's a fine present to hand a man," he answered grimly. "An' I didn't
notice you bubble with enthusiasm when I spoke of givin' half the glory
to Goodheart."

"But I haven't a thing you'd care for. If I'd only known in time I'd have
sent to Vegas and got you something nice."

"You don't have to send to Vegas for it, Polly. The present I want is
right here," he said simply.

She reached out a little hand impulsively. "Billie, I believe you 're the
best man I know--the very best."

"I hate to hear that. You're tryin' to let me down easy."

"I'm an ungrateful little idiot. Any other girl in town would jump at the
chance to say, 'Thank you, kind sir.'"

"But you can't," he said gently.

"No, I can't."

He was not sure whether there was a flash of tears in her brown eyes, but
he knew by that little trick of biting the lower lip that they were not
far away. She was a tender-hearted little comrade, and it always hurt her
to hurt others.

Billie drew a long breath. "That's settled, too, then. I asked you once
before if there was some one else. I ask you again, but don't tell me if
you'd rather not."

"Yes."

"You mean there is."

Again the scarlet splashed into her cheeks. She nodded her head three or
four times quickly in assent.

"Not Jim Clanton?" he said, alarmed.

A faint, tender smile flashed on her lips. "I don