suggestion caused him to laugh at first; then his face suddenly
sobered, as though a new thought had occurred to him.

"Damn me, no, it couldn't be that," he exclaimed, one hand pressing his
head. "He couldn't be workin' no trick of that kind on me."

"Whom do you mean?"

"A fellow named Hawley," evasively. "The man who claimed to have met my
sister."

"'Black Bart' Hawley?"

The boy lifted his head again, his eyes filled with suspicion.

"Yes, if you must know; he's a gambler all right, but he's stuck to me
when I was down and out. You know him?"

"Just a little," carelessly; "but what sort of a trick could he be
working trying to make you acknowledge Christie Maclaire as your
sister?"

Willoughby did not answer, shifting uneasily about on the bed. Keith
waited, and at last the boy blurted out:

"Oh, it wasn't nothing much. I told him something when I was drunk once,
that I thought maybe might have stuck to him. Odd he should make that
mistake, too, for I showed him Hope's picture. Bart's a schemer, and I
didn't know but what he might have figured out a trick, though I don't
see how he could. It wasn't no more than a pipe dream, I reckon. Where
did you meet Hope? Back in Missouri?"

One thing was clearly evident--the boy's faith in his sister. If he was
to be rightly influenced, and led back to her, he must have no suspicion
aroused that her life was any different from what it had been before he
left home. Besides if Keith hoped to gain any inkling of what Hawley's
purpose could be, he must win the confidence of Willoughby. This could
not be done by telling him of Hope's present life. These considerations
flashed through his mind, and as swiftly determined his answer.

"Oh, I've known her some time. Not long ago I did her a service
for which she is grateful. Did you know she was out in this country
searching for you?"

"Out here? In Kansas?"

"Sure; that isn't much of a trip for a spirited girl. She got it in her
head from your letters that you were in trouble, and set out to find you
and bring you home. She didn't tell me this, but that is the way I heard
it. It was for her sake I came in here. Why not go to her, Willoughby,
and then both of you return to Missouri?"

The sullenness had gone out of the boy's face: he looked tired,
discouraged.

"Where is Hope?" he asked.

"Fort Larned, I suppose. She went to Carson City first."

"Well, that settles it," shaking his head. "You don't suppose I could