o fitted her
sadly, while her rumpled hair, from which the broad-brimmed hat had
fallen, possessed a reddish copper tinge where it was touched by the
sun. Mr. Hampton's survey did not increase his desire for more
intimate acquaintanceship, yet he recognized anew her undoubted claim
upon him.

"Suppose I might just as well drop out that way as any other," he
reflected, thoughtfully. "It's all in the game."

Lying flat upon his stomach, both arms extended, he slowly forced
himself beyond his bowlder into the open. There was no great distance
to be traversed, and a considerable portion of the way was somewhat
protected by low bushes. Hampton took few chances of those spying eyes
above, never uplifting his head the smallest fraction of an inch, but
reaching forward with blindly groping hands, caught hold upon any
projecting root or stone which enabled him to drag his body an inch
farther. Twice they fired directly down at him from the opposite
summit, and once a fleck of sharp rock, chipped by a glancing bullet,
embedded itself in his cheek, dyeing the whole side of his face
crimson. But not once did he pause or glance aside; nor did the girl
look up from the imploring face of her dead. As he crept silently in,
sheltering himself next to the body of the dead man, she perceived his
presence for the first time, and shrank back as if in dread.

"What are you doing? Why--why did you come here?" she questioned, a
falter in her voice; and he noticed that her eyes were dark and large,
yielding a marked impress of beauty to her face.

"I was unwilling to leave you here alone," he answered, quietly, "and
hope to discover some means for getting you safely back beside the
others."

"But I didn't want you," and there was a look of positive dislike in
her widely opened eyes.

"Did n't want me?" He echoed these unexpected words in a tone of
complete surprise. "Surely you could not desire to be left here alone?
Why didn't you want me?"

"Because I know who you are!" Her voice seemed to catch in her throat.
"He told me. You're the man who shot Jim Eberly."

Mr. Hampton was never of a pronounced emotional nature, nor was he a
person easily disconcerted, yet he flushed at the sound of these
impulsive words, and the confident smile deserted his lips. For a
moment they sat thus, the dead body lying between, and looked at each
other. When the man finally broke the constrained silence a deeper
intonation had crept into h