e kept a continuous
stream of riders heading toward the neck of the basin. And then, when
he had spoken to as many as he thought he needed, he mounted his own
horse and, rode away.

Sanderson and Mary Bransford had not yet settled the question regarding
the disposal of the money Sanderson had received from Banker Maison.
They sat on the edge of the porch, talking about it. From a window of
the bunkhouse Barney Owen watched them, a pleased smile on his face.

"It's yours," Sanderson told the girl. "An' we ain't trustin' _that_
to any bank. Look what they did with the seven thousand I've got in
the Lazette bank. They've tied it up so nobody will be able to touch
it until half the lawyers in the county have had a chance to gas about
it. An' by that time there won't be a two-bit piece left to argue
over. No, siree, you've got to keep that coin where you can put your
hands on it when you want it!"

"When _you_ want it," she smiled. "Do you know, Deal," she added
seriously, blushing as she looked at him, "that our romance has been so
much different from other romances that I've heard about. It has
seemed so--er--matter of fact."

He grinned. "All romances--real romances--are a heap matter of fact.
Love is the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. When a guy meets a
girl that he takes a shine to--an' the girl takes a shine to him--there
ain't anything goin' to keep them from makin' a go of it."

He reddened a little.

"That's what I thought when I saw you. Even when the Drifter was
tellin' me about you, I was sure of you."

"I think you have shown it in your actions," she laughed.

"But how about you?" he suggested; "did you have any thoughts on the
subject?"

"I--I think that even while I thought you were my brother, I realized
that my feeling for you was strange and unusual; though I laid it to
the fact that I had never had a brother, and therefore could not be
expected to know just how a sister should feel toward one. But it has
all been unusual, hasn't it?"

"If you mean me comin' here like I did, an' masqueradin', an' lettin'
you kiss me, an' fuss over me--why, mebbe that would be considered
unusual. But love ain't unusual; an' a man fightin' for the woman he
loves ain't unusual."

While he had been talking a change had come over him. His voice had
lost its note of gentle raillery, his lips had straightened into hard
lines, his eyes were glowing with the light she had seen in them more
th