fascinating daredevil for whom the East was too narrow.

Lem sat and watched Joe, and observed the progress of the dance,
philosophizing over the scene in a way peculiar to himself. For his own
part, he never danced if he could help himself, but he found the dancing
human being a fruitful subject of contemplation. Joe's partner, in
particular, amused and interested him. She was a rather dressy young
person, with a rose-leaf complexion and a simpering mouth. Rose-leaf
complexions are rare on the sun-drenched, wind-swept prairies, and the
more effective for that. The possessor of this one, fully aware of her
advantage, was displaying, for her partner's delectation, the most
wonderful airs and graces. She glided about upon the points of her toes;
she gave him her delicately poised finger-tips with a birdlike coyness
which the glance of her beady black eyes belied. Joe was in his element,
playing the bold yet insinuating cavalier.

Lem Keith found a fascination in this first ranch dance of his. He liked
the heartiness of the whole performance; he enjoyed the sharp-cut
individuality of the people, their eccentricities of costume and
deportment; he was of too sensitive a fibre not to feel the dramatic
possibilities of the occasion. "Tenderfoot" as he was, the fact could
not escape him that a man in a flannel shirt, with a pistol at his
belt,--and most of the men were thus equipped,--was more than likely to
have a touch of lawlessness about him.

[Illustration: THE KEITH RANCH.]

There was a pause between the two figures of the dance. Joe had taken
his partner's fan, which he was gently waving to and fro before her face.
She stood panting with affected exhaustion, glancing archly at her new
"young man" from under studiously fluttering eyelids. The gaunt father,
having stopped waltzing, had discovered that the woollen-clad baby was
fast asleep on his shoulder. Over in another corner, under a window, was
a red-faced cowboy, slumbering as tranquilly as the baby, his head sunk
on his breast, a genial forelock waving lightly in the breeze. The
fiddlers resumed their function. "Swing your pards!" cried the
curly-headed boy; and once more all was commotion.

The room seemed hot and crowded. Lem had shifted his position, and was
standing opposite the windows. He looked toward them, and his glance was
arrested. In the square of light cast outside by the lamps within was a
sinister, malignant face. It was the face of a man whom th