see it?"

"Certainly."

He took it carefully and read the title on the back, then turned a few
of the leaves. "I'm not much on reading," he said, "but I've got a
sister that sends me tracts, and the like." He returned to the fly-leaf.
"Is this your name?"

"Yes."

"'Alice Mansfield,'" he read; "beautiful name! 'New York City'! That's
pretty near the other side of the world to me." He studied the address
with intent look. "I'd like to buy this book. How much will you take for
it?"

"I'll trade it for your weapon," she replied.

He looked at her narrowly. "You mean something by that. I reckon I
follow you. No, I can't do that--not now. If I get into business over
the line I'll disarm, but in this country a fellow needs to be
protected. I want this book!"

"For the fly-leaf?"

He smiled in return. "You've hit it."

She hesitated. "I'll give you the book if you'll promise to read it."

He clapped the covers together and put the volume in his pocket. "It's
mine! I'll read every word of it, if it takes an age, and here's my hand
on it."

She gave him her hand, and in this clasp something came to her from his
clutching fingers which sobered her. She drew her hand away hastily and
said: "If you read that book--and think about it--it will change your
whole world."

He, too, lost his brightness. "Well, I'm not so anxious to keep up this
kind of life. But if anybody changes me it will be you."

"Hush!" she warned with lifted finger.

He fell back, and after a little silence went out to wait upon the fire.

"It seems to me," said Peggy, reprovingly, "that you're too gracious
with this mountaineer; he's getting presumptuous."

"He doesn't mean to be. It's his unsophisticated way. Anyhow, we can't
afford to be captious to our host."

"That's true," admitted Peggy.

The night shut down with the snow still falling, but with a growing
chill in the air.

"The flakes are finer," the outlaw announced, as he came in a little
later. "That is a good sign. It is growing colder and the wind is
changing. It will pinch hard before sun-up, and the worst of it, there's
no way to warm the cabin. We can't have the door open to-night. I'm
worried about you," he said to Alice. "If only those chumps had left a
man-size ax!"

The two women understood that this night was to bring them into closer
intimacy with the stranger than before. He could not remain outdoors,
and though they now knew something of his desperate character,