ck-pot and drew two more! My, but didn't I feel good! And,
say--whenever you run out of smoking again, you just flag Bill Howland's
chariot: you can have all he's got. That's straight, you bet! Bill Howland
don't forget a turn like that, never."

The enthusiasm he looked for did not materialize and he glanced from one
to another as he realized that something was up.

"Come, dears, let us go," said Mary Shields, lifting her skirts and
abruptly turning her back on the outlaw. "We evidently have far to go,
and we have wasted _so_ much time. Come, Grace," she said to her friend,
stepping toward the coach.

Bill stared and wondered how much time had been wasted, since never before
had he reached that point in so short a time. He had made two miles to
every one at his regular speed.

"Come, Helen!" came the command from the elder, and with a trace of
surprise and impatience.

"Sister! Why, Mary, how can you be so mean!" retorted the girl with the
black eyes, angry and indignant at the unkindness of the cut, her face
flushing at its injustice. Her spirit was up in arms immediately and she
deliberately walked to The Orphan and impulsively held out her hand, her
sister's words deciding the doubts in her mind in the outlaw's favor.

"Forgive her!" she cried. "She doesn't mean to be rude! She is so very
nervous, and this afternoon has been too much for her. It was a man's
act, a brave man's act! And one which I will always cherish, for I will
never forget this day, never, never!" she reiterated earnestly. "I don't
care what they say about you, not a bit! I don't believe it, for you
could not have done what you have if you are as they paint you. I will
not wait for our driver to tell my brother about your splendid act--he,
at least, shall know you as you are, and some day he will return it, too."

Then she looked from him to her hand: "Will you not shake hands with
me? Show me that you are not angry. Are you fair to me to class me as an
enemy, just because my brother is the sheriff?"

He looked at her in wonderment and his face softened as he took the hand.

"Thank you," he said simply. "You are kind, and fair. I do not think of
you as an enemy."

"Helen! Are you coming?" came from the coach.

He smiled at the words and then laughed bitterly, recklessly, his
shoulders unconsciously squaring. There was no malice in his face,
only a quizzical, baffling cynicism.

"Oh, it's a shame!" she cried, her eyes growing moist. She