ally always in it."

"You'd better take my gloves--it's likely to snow in half an hour. Go
ahead--I'm a younger man than you are."

The other made a decent show of resistance, but finally accepted the
offer, saying: "You certainly are white to me. I want to apologize for
making that attempt to sneak away that night--I had a powerful good reason
for not staying any longer."

Ross smiled a little. "You showed bad judgment--as it turned out."

"I sure did. That girl can shoot. Her gun was steady as a door-knob. She
filled the door. Where did she learn to hold a gun like that?"

"Her father taught her, so she said."

"She wouldn't remember me--an old cuss like me--but I've seen her with
Wetherford when she was a kidlet. I never thought she'd grow up into such
a 'queen.' She's a wonder."

Strange to say, Ross no longer objected to the old man's words of
admiration; on the contrary, he encouraged him to talk on.

"Her courage is greater than you know. When she came to that hotel it was
a place of dirt and vermin. She has transformed it. She's now engaged on
the reformation of her mother."

"Lize was straight when I knew her," remarked the other, in the tone of
one who wishes to defend a memory. "Straight as a die."

"In certain ways she's straight now, but she's been hard pushed at times,
and has traded in liquor to help out--then she's naturally a slattern."

"She didn't used to be," asserted Edwards; "she was a mighty handsome
woman when I used to see her riding around with Ed."

"She's down at the heel now, quite like the town."

"She looked sick to me. You shouldn't be too hard on a sick woman, but she
ought to send her girl away or get out. As you say, the Fork is no kind of
a place for such a girl. If I had a son, a fine young feller like that
girl is, do you suppose I'd let him load himself up with an old soak like
me? No, sir; Lize has no right to spoil that girl's life. I'm nothing but
a ham-strung old cow-puncher, but I've too much pride to saddle my pack on
the shoulders of my son the way Lize seems to be doin' with that girl."

He spoke with a good deal of feeling, and the ranger studied him with
deepening interest. He had taken on dignity in the heat of his protest,
and in his eyes blazed something that was both manly and admirable.

Cavanagh took his turn at defending Lize. "As a matter of fact, she tried
to send her daughter away, but Lee refuses to go, insisting that it is her
duty to remain. I