educated men--who failed to treat
women as they should be treated."

"Then that ain't what you might call a hard-an'-fast rule--it don't
always work. An' there's hope for any man who ain't had schoolin'--if
he's wantin' to be a man."

"Certainly."

"But an educated man can't claim ignorance when he aims to mistreat a
woman. That's how it figures up, ain't it?"

She laughed. "It would seem to point to that conclusion."

"So you've knowed Haydon about a year? I reckon he's educated?"

"Yes." She watched him closely, wondering at his meaning--why he had
brought Haydon's name into the discussion. She was marveling at the
subtle light in his eyes.

"Your father liked Haydon--he told me Haydon was the only square man in
the country--besides himself an' Sheriff Gage."

"Father liked Haydon. I'm beginning to believe you really _did_ have a
talk with father before he died!"

He smiled. "Goin' back to Haydon. I had a talk with him a little while
ago. I sort of took a shine to him." He drew from a pocket the section of
gold chain he had found on the desert, holding it out to her.

"Here's a piece of Haydon's watch chain," he said slowly, watching her
face. "The next time Haydon comes to see you, give it to him, tellin' him
I found it. It's likely he'll ask you where I found it. But you can say I
wasn't mentionin'."

He turned, looking back over his shoulder at her as he walked toward the
gate.

She stood, holding the glittering links in the palm of one hand, doubt
and suspicion in her eyes.

"Why," she called after him; "he was just here, and you say you talked
with him! Why didn't you give it to him?"

"Forgot it, ma'am. An' I reckon you'll be seein' him before I do."

Then he strode out through the gate, leaving her to speculate upon the
mystery of his words and his odd action in leaving the chain with her
when he could have personally returned it to Haydon.

Harlan, however, was grinning as he returned to the bunkhouse. For he
wanted Barbara to see Haydon's face when the section of chain was
returned to him, to gain whatever illumination she could from the
incident. He did not care to tell her--yet--that Haydon had killed her
father; but he did desire to create in her mind a doubt of Haydon, so
that she would hesitate to confide to him everything that happened at the
Rancho Seco.

For himself, he wanted to intimate delicately to Haydon his knowledge of
what had really occurred at Sentinel Rock; it was a me