the crimson tie that flowed from Nan's open neck.
"By the way," he added, his glance resting on her right side as he
noticed the absence of her holster, "where is your protector to-day?"
She made no answer. "Fine form," he said coldly, "to come unarmed on
an errand of mercy to a desperado."

Nan flushed with vexation. "I came away in such a hurry I forgot it,"
she replied lamely.

"A forget might cost you your life."

"Perhaps you've forgotten you left a cartridge-belt behind once
yourself," she returned swiftly. The retort startled him. How could
she know? But he would not, at first, ask a question, though her eyes
told him she knew what she was talking about. They looked at each
other a moment in silence.

De Spain, convicted, finally laid his fingers over the butt of his
empty revolver. "How did you find that out?"

She tossed her head. They were standing only a few feet apart, de
Spain supporting himself now with his left hand high up against the
wall; Nan, with her shoulder lightly against it; both had become
quizzical. "Other people forget, too, then," was all she said,
fingering the loosened tie as the breeze from the west blew it toward
her shoulder.

"No," he protested, "I didn't forget; not that time. I went over to
the joint to get a cup of coffee and expected to be back within five
minutes, never dreaming of walking into a bear trap." He drew his
revolver and, breaking it negligently, took out the single cartridge.
"Take this." He held the cartridge in his left hand and took two
halting steps toward her--"since you are unarmed, I will be, too. Not
that this puts us on an even footing. I don't mean that. Nothing
would. You would be too much for me in any kind of a contest, armed or
unarmed."

"What do you mean?" she demanded to hide her confusion. And she saw
that each step he took cost pain, skilfully concealed.

"I mean," he said, "you are to take this cartridge as a remembrance of
my forgetfulness and your adventure."

She drew back. "I don't want it."

"Take it."

He was persistent. She allowed him to drop the loaded shell into her
hand. "Now," he continued, replacing his gun, "if I encounter any of
your people in an attempt to break through a line, and somebody gets
killed, you will know, when you hear the story, that _this_ time, at
least, _I_ didn't 'start it.'"

"All the same--" She hesitated. "I don't think that's exactly right.
You need not shoot my people, even if you meet them. Th