t with her back to the old home to live there the rest of
their lives. He replied with considerable feeling that he wished he
could go, but it was impossible. Then that settled the matter for her,
she averred.

Failing to persuade her to leave Linrock, he told her to keep to the
ranch. Naturally, in spite of his anger, Miss Sampson refused to obey;
and she frankly told him that it was the free, unfettered life of the
country, the riding here and there that appealed so much to her.

Sampson came to me a little later and his worn face showed traces of
internal storm.

"Russ, for a while there I wanted to get rid of you," he said. "I've
changed. Diane always was a spoiled kid. Now she's a woman. Something's
fired her blood. Maybe it's this damned wild country. Anyway, she's got
the bit between her teeth. She'll run till she's run herself out.

"Now, it seems the safety of Diane, and Sally, too, has fallen into your
hands. The girls won't have one of my cowboys near them. Lately they've
got shy of George, too. Between you and me I want to tell you that
conditions here in Pecos are worse than they've seemed since you-all
reached the ranch. But bad work will break out again--it's coming soon.

"I can't stop it. The town will be full of the hardest gang in western
Texas. My daughter and Sally would not be safe if left alone to go
anywhere. With you, perhaps, they'll be safe. Can I rely on you?"

"Yes, Sampson, you sure can," I replied. "I'm on pretty good terms with
most everybody in town. I think I can say none of the tough set who hang
out down there would ever made any move while I'm with the girls. But
I'll be pretty careful to avoid them, and particularly strange fellows
who may come riding in.

"And if any of them do meet us and start trouble, I'm going for my gun,
that's all. There won't be any talk."

"Good! I'll back you," Sampson replied. "Understand, Russ, I didn't want
you here, but I always had you sized up as a pretty hard nut, a man not
to be trifled with. You've got a bad name. Diane insists the name's not
deserved. She'd trust you with herself under any circumstances. And the
kid, Sally, she'd be fond of you if it wasn't for the drink. Have you
been drunk a good deal? Straight now, between you and me."

"Not once," I replied.

"George's a liar then. He's had it in for you since that day at
Sanderson. Look out you two don't clash. He's got a temper, and when
he's drinking he's a devil. Keep out of hi