u're a right friendly enemy."

"It isn't a matter of friendship at all. One couldn't leave a wounded
jack rabbit in pain," she retorted coldly, taking up the trail again.

There was room for two abreast, and he chose to ride beside her. "So you
tied me up because it was your Christian duty," he soliloquized aloud.
"Just the same as if I had been a mangy coyote that was suffering."

"Exactly."

He let his cool eyes rest on her with a hint of amusement. "And what
were you thinking of doing with me now, ma'am?"

"I'm going to take you up to Jim Yeager's mine. He is doing his
assessment work now, and he'll look out for you for a day or two."

"Look out for me in a locked room?" he wanted to know casually.

"I didn't say so. It isn't my business to arrest criminals," she told
him icily.

His eyes gleamed mischief. "Is it your business to help them to escape?"

"I'm not helping you to escape. I'll not risk your dying in the hills
alone. That is all."

"Jim Yeager is your friend?"

"Yes."

"And you guarantee he'll keep his mouth padlocked and not betray me?"

"He'll do as he pleases about that," she said indifferently.

"Then I don't reckon I'll trouble his hospitality. Good-by, Miss
Sanderson. I've enjoyed meeting you very much."

He checked his pony and bowed.

"Where are you going?" the girl exclaimed.

"Up Bear Creek."

"It's twenty miles. You can't do it."

"Sure I can. Thanks for your kindness, Miss Sanderson. I'll return the
handkerchief some day," and with a touch swung round his pony.

"You're not going. I won't have it, and you wounded!"

He turned in the saddle, smiling at her with jaunty insouciance.

"I'll answer for Jim. He won't betray you," she promised, subduing her
pride.

"Thanks. I'll take your word for it, but I won't trouble your friend.
I've had all the Christian charity that's good for me this mo'ning," he
drawled.

At that she flamed out passionately: "Do you want me to tell you that I
_like_ you, knowing what you are? Do you want me to pretend that I feel
friendly when I hate you?"

"Do you want me to be under obligations to folks that hate me?" he came
back with his easy smile.

"You have lost a lot of blood. Your arm is still bleeding. You know I
can't let you go alone."

"You're ce'tainly aching for a chance to be a Good Samaritan, Miss
Sanderson."

With this he left her. But he had not gone a hundred yards before he
heard her pony cantering after his. One glanc