ruse,
concealing an ulterior purpose? Suppose she and her brother suspected
him of being the man who had participated in the shooting match in Dry
Bottom? Suppose the brother, or she, had invented this tale about the
book to draw him out? He was moved to an inward humor, amused to think
that either of them should imagine him shallow enough to be caught thus.

But what if they did catch him? Would they gain by it? They could
gain nothing, but the knowledge would serve to put them on their guard.
But if she did suspect him, what use was there in evasion or denial?
He smiled whimsically.

"I reckon your story is goin' to be real up to this point," he
returned. "A while back I did shoot at a can in Dry Bottom."

She gave an exclamation of delight. "Now, isn't that marvelous? No
one shall be able to say that my beginning will be strictly fiction."
She leaned closer to him, her eyes alight with eagerness. "Now please
don't say that you are the man who shot the can five times," she
pleaded. "I shouldn't want my hero to be beaten at anything he
undertook. But I know that you were not beaten. Were you?"

He smiled gravely. "I reckon I wasn't beat," he returned.

She sat back and surveyed him with satisfaction.

"I knew it," she stated, as though in her mind there had never existed
any doubt of the fact. "Now," she said, plainly pleased over the
result of her questioning, "I shall be able to proceed, entirely
confident that my hero will be able to give a good account of himself
in any situation."

Her eyes baffled him. He gave up watching her and turned to look at
the world beneath him. He would have given much to know her thoughts.
She had said that from her brother's description of the man who had won
the shooting match at Dry Bottom she would assume that that man had
looked very like him. Did her brother hold this opinion also?

Ferguson cared very little if he did. He was accustomed to danger, and
he had gone into this business with his eyes open. And if Ben did
know---- Unconsciously his lips straightened and his chin went forward
slightly, giving his face an expression of hardness that made him look
ten years older. Watching him, the girl drew a slow, full breath. It
was a side of his character with which she was as yet unacquainted, and
she marveled over it, comparing it to the side she already knew--the
side that he had shown her--quiet, thoughtful, subtle. And now at a
glance she saw him a