fled. It was Andrew McBain, and as he dashed for the rear
door the girl valiantly covered his retreat. There was a quick slap of
the latch, a scuffle behind her, and the door came shut with a bang.

"Oho!" said Rimrock as she faced him panting, "he must be a friend of
yourn."

"No, he isn't," she answered instantly, and then a smile crept into her
eyes. "But he's--well, he's my principal customer."

"Oh," said Rimrock grimly, "well, I'll let him live then. Good-bye."

He turned away, still intent on his purpose, but at the door she called
him back.

"What's that?" he asked as if awakened from a dream. "Why, yes, if you
don't mind, I will."

CHAPTER III

MISS FORTUNE

It was very informal, to say the least, for Mary Fortune to invite him
to stay. To be sure, she knew him--he was the man with the gun, the
man of whom McBain was afraid--but that was all the more reason, to a
reasoning woman, why she should keep silent and let him depart. But
there was a business-like brevity about him, a single-minded
directness, that struck her as really unique. Quite apart from the
fact that it might save McBain, she wanted him to stay there and talk.
At least so she explained it, the evening afterwards, to her censorious
other-self. What she did was spontaneous, on the impulse of the
moment, and without any reason whatever.

"Oh, won't you sit down a moment?" she had murmured politely; and the
savage, fascinating Westerner, after one long look, had with equal
politeness accepted.

"Yes, indeed," he answered when he had got his wits together, "you're
very kind to ask me, I'm sure."

He came back then, a huge, brown, ragged animal and sat down, very
carefully, in her spare chair. Why he did so when his business, not to
mention a just revenge, was urgently calling him thence, was a question
never raised by Rimrock Jones. Perhaps he was surprised beyond the
point of resistance; but it is still more likely that, without his
knowing it, he was hungry to hear a woman's voice. His black mood left
him, he forgot what he had come there for, and sat down to wonder and
admire.

He looked at her curiously, and his eyes for one brief moment took in
the details of the headband over her ear; then he smiled to himself in
his masterful way as if the sight of her pleased him well. There was
nothing about her to remind him of those women who stalked up and down
the street; she was tall and slim with swift, capable hands,