dicted her companion with slow confidence. "The gun
bounced from your scabbard when you were running your horse along the
bench. So I picked it up for you." He presented it on the palm of his
hand.

"How odd!" she exclaimed, trying to take it without appearing in a hurry.
"How stupid of me!" She knew her face, in spite of herself, flushed
under his gaze.

"You were going a pretty good clip," he continued.

"But a man would never do such a thing as to drop a revolver--you never
would."

"It might be a whole lot worse for me to do it than it would for
you--though if I carried a nice little gun like that it maybe wouldn't
make so very much difference. There's your prairie dog again," he added,
looking across the hole.

"Of course a man would have to make fun of a pistol like this," she
answered, the revolver lying in her hand. "Let me see yours." Thus far
she had seen no sign of any scabbard or holster. "And shoot that prairie
dog for me," she added.

"Mine would be pretty heavy for a prairie dog. You try him."

"Oh, my poor little pistol is in disgrace," she returned, putting it up.
"Sec what you can do."

He slipped his left hand under the right lapel of his coat and drew from
a breast harness a Colt's revolver. Had she realized it was carried that
day in this very unobtrusive manner in anticipation of an unpleasant
interview with her father, Kate would have been speechless with fear. As
it was, no gun, though she had seen many since coming to the mountains,
ever looked so big or formidable. The setting of the scene and her
situation may have magnified its impressiveness.

"Why smash the prairie dog?" he asked quietly. "Look at his whiskers--he
may be the father of a family."

"You might miss him."

"If I should it would be time for me to quit this country."

"Shoot at something else."

"Why shoot at all?"

"I want to see you."

"We might get a shot at something on the way home."

"You're not obliging." She held out her hand for his revolver. "Let me
see."

"It makes me feel kind of foolish," he said defensively, "kind of like an
old-fashioned cowboy, to be shooting right and left." On his right hand
he held the heavy gun toward Kate.

"How do you get practise?" she asked.

He lifted his eyebrows the least bit: "To tell the truth I haven't had
much lately."

"How can you tell then whether you could hit anything if you did shoot at
it?"

"That wouldn't be hard. If I didn't hi