ived, and surveyed the couple on the seat with a
wink and a grin and a knowing look that quite embarrassed the young
lady.

"Wal, now, this here stage drivin' is gettin' to be mighty fine," he
said, as he clambered up to the seat, and unwound the reins from the
brake handle. "Lady, I reckon I seen you didn't like ridin' inside.
Wal, you'll shore be all right ridin' between me an' my young friend
Panhandle Smith."

"I think I will," replied the girl, dimpling prettily. "My name is
Emily Newman. I'm on my way with my father to visit relatives in
California."

Pan soon found it needful to make conversation, in order to keep the
loquacious old stage driver from talking too much. He had told Miss
Newman about Pan's escapade with the red calico, and had launched upon
another story about him, not funny at all to Pan, but one calculated to
make conquest of a romancing young girl. Pan managed to shut Wells up,
but too late. Miss Newman turned bright eyes upon Pan.

"Oh, of course, I saw you were a cowboy," she said, dimpling again.
"Those enormous spurs you wear! I wondered how you could walk."

"These spurs? They're nothing. I sleep in them," replied Pan.

"Indeed. You're not serious.... Was that true about your riding round
Cheyenne dragging yards and yards of red calico behind your horse?"

"Yes. It was silly of me. I fear I had been looking upon something
beside calico that was red."

"Oh, you mean red liquor? ... You were--under its influence!"

"A little," replied Pan laughing, yet not liking the turn of the
conversation.

"I wouldn't have guessed that you--" she added, without concluding what
she meant to say. But her tone, her look, and the intimation conveyed
a subtle flattery to Pan. It seemed that whenever he approached young
women he always received similar impressions. That was seldom, for his
encounters with girls were few and far between. He could not help
feeling pleased, somehow embarrassed, and rather vaguely elated. He
divined danger for him in these potent impressions. Without ever
understanding why he had avoided friendships with girls.

"Miss Newman, cowboys as a rule aren't worth much," rejoined Pan,
submerging his annoyance in good humor. "But at that they are not
terrible liars like most of the stage drivers you meet."

"Haw! Haw!" roared Jim Wells, cracking his long whip, as the stage
bowled over the road. "He's a modest young fellar, Miss, a most
extraordinary kin