s in regard to Miss Chadron. She'll hardly be
entertaining marriage notions yet--after her recent experience."

Chadron got up so quickly he overturned his chair.

"By God, sir! do you mean to intimate you wouldn't have her after what
she's gone through? Well, I'll put a bullet through any man that
says--"

"Oh, hold yourself in, Chadron; there's no call for this."

King's cold contempt would have been like a lash to a man of finer
sensibilities than Saul Chadron. As it was, Frances could hear the
heavy cattleman breathing like a mad bull.

"When you talk about my little girl, King, go as easy as if you was
carryin' quicksilver in a dish. You told me she was all right a little
while ago, and I tell you I don't like--"

"Miss Chadron was as bright as a redbird when I saw her this
afternoon," King assured him, calmly. "She has suffered no harm at the
hands of Macdonald and his outlaws."

"He'll dance in hell for that trick before the sun goes down on
another day!"

"His big play for sympathy fell flat," said King, with a contemptuous
laugh. "There wasn't much of a crowd on hand when he arrived at the
ranch."

Silence. A little shifting of feet, a growl from Chadron, and a
curse.

"But as for your proposal involving Miss Chadron, I am honored by it,"
said King.

"Any man would be!" Chadron declared.

"And we will just let it stand, waiting the lady's sanction."

That brightened Chadron up. He moved about, and there was a sound as
if he had slapped the young officer on the back in pure comradeship
and open admiration.

"What's your scheme for drawin' that feller into firin' on your men?"
he asked.

"We'll talk it over as we go," said King.

A bugle lifted its sharp, electrifying note in the barracks.

"Boots and saddles!" Chadron said.

"Yes; we march at nine o'clock."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TRAIL OF THE COFFEE

"You done right to come to the mission after me, for I'd ride to the
gatepost of hell to turn a trick agin Saul Chadron!"

Banjo's voice had a quaver of earnestness in it that needed no
daylight to enforce. The pitchy night made a bobbing blur of him as he
rode his quick-stepping little horse at Frances Landcraft's side.

"Yes, you owe him one," Frances admitted.

"And I'll pay him before mornin' or it won't be no fault of mine. That
there little ten-cent-size major he'd 'a' stopped you if he'd 'a'
known you was goin', don't you suppose?"

"I'm sure he would have, Mr. Gibson."