mean your Ranger duty--the arresting of rough
characters?"

"That, yes. But that's only a detail. Linrock is bad internally. My job
is to make it good."

"A splendid and worthy task," replied Miss Sampson warmly. "I wish you
success. But, Mr. Steele, aren't you exaggerating Linrock's wickedness?"

"No," he answered forcibly.

"Indeed! And papa refused to see you--presumably refused to cooperate
with you?" she asked thoughtfully.

"I take it that way."

"Mr. Steele, pray tell me what is the matter with Linrock and just
what the work is you're called upon to do?" she asked seriously. "I
heard papa say that he was the law in Linrock. Perhaps he resents
interference. I know he'll not tolerate any opposition to his will.
Please tell me. I may be able to influence him."

I listened to Steele's deep voice as he talked about Linrock. What he
said was old to me, and I gave heed only to its effect.

Miss Sampson's expression, which at first had been earnest and grave,
turned into one of incredulous amaze. She, and Sally too, watched
Steele's face in fascinated attention.

When it came to telling what he wanted to do, the Ranger warmed to his
subject; he talked beautifully, convincingly, with a certain strange,
persuasive power that betrayed how he worked his way; and his fine face,
losing its stern, hard lines, seemed to glow and give forth a spirit
austere, yet noble, almost gentle, assuredly something vastly different
from what might have been expected in the expression of a gun-fighting
Ranger. I sensed that Miss Sampson felt this just as I did.

"Papa said you were a hounder of outlaws--a man who'd rather kill than
save!" she exclaimed.

The old stern cast returned to Steele's face. It was as if he had
suddenly remembered himself.

"My name is infamous, I am sorry to say," he replied.

"You have killed men?" she asked, her dark eyes dilating.

Had any one ever dared ask Steele that before? His face became a mask.
It told truth to me, but she could not see, and he did not answer.

"Oh, you are above that. Don't--don't kill any one here!"

"Miss Sampson, I hope I won't." His voice seemed to check her. I had
been right in my estimate of her character--young, untried, but all
pride, fire, passion. She was white then, and certainly beautiful.

Steele watched her, could scarcely have failed to see the white gleam of
her beauty, and all that evidence of a quick and noble heart.

"Pardon me, please, Mr. Steele,