-whom she had liked so
well--who had won her sister's love. Helen imagined facing him thus was
like awakening from a vague nightmare of doubt. Carmichael's face was
clean, fresh, young, with its healthy tan; it wore the old glad smile,
cool, easy, and natural; his eyes were like Dale's--penetrating, clear
as crystal, without a shadow. What had evil, drink, blood, to do
with the real inherent nobility of this splendid specimen of Western
hardihood? Wherever he had been, whatever he had done during that
long absence, he had returned long separated from that wild and savage
character she could now forget. Perhaps there would never again be call
for it.

"How's my girl?" he asked, just as naturally as if he had been gone a
few days on some errand of his employer's.

"Bo? Oh, she's well--fine. I--I rather think she'll be glad to see you,"
replied Helen, warmly.

"An' how's thet big Indian, Dale?" he drawled.

"Well, too--I'm sure."

"Reckon I got back heah in time to see you-all married?"

"I--I assure you I--no one around here has been married yet," replied
Helen, with a blush.

"Thet shore is fine. Was some worried," he said, lazily. "I've been
chasin' wild hosses over in New Mexico, an' I got after this heah blue
roan. He kept me chasin' him fer a spell. I've fetched him back for Bo."

Helen looked at the mustang Roy was holding, to be instantly delighted.
He was a roan almost blue in color, neither large nor heavy, but
powerfully built, clean-limbed, and racy, with a long mane and tail,
black as coal, and a beautiful head that made Helen love him at once.

"Well, I'm jealous," declared Helen, archly. "I never did see such a
pony."

"I reckoned you'd never ride any hoss but Ranger," said Las Vegas.

"No, I never will. But I can be jealous, anyhow, can't I?"

"Shore. An I reckon if you say you're goin' to have him--wal, Bo 'd be
funny," he drawled.

"I reckon she would be funny," retorted Helen. She was so happy that
she imitated his speech. She wanted to hug him. It was too good to be
true--the return of this cowboy. He understood her. He had come back
with nothing that could alienate her. He had apparently forgotten the
terrible role he had accepted and the doom he had meted out to her
enemies. That moment was wonderful for Helen in its revelation of the
strange significance of the West as embodied in this cowboy. He was
great. But he did not know that.

Then the door of the living-room opened, and a sw