She came out to the edge of the porch, away from the door, where the
stream of light from within could not search them out, and there they
took leave of one another, she going back into the cabin and he
mounting Mustard and riding away in the darkness.

He was in high spirits, for he had much to be thankful for. As he rode
through the darkness, skirting the cottonwood in the flat, he allowed
his thoughts to wander. His refusal to enter the cabin had not been a
mere whim; he intended on the morrow to seek out Ben and tell him. He
had not wanted to tell him with her looking on to make the situation
embarrassing for him.

When he thought of how she had fooled him by making it appear that she
had led him on for the purpose of getting material for her love story,
he was moved to silent mirth. "But I cert'nly didn't see anything
funny in it while she was puttin' it on," he told himself, as he rode.

He had not ridden more than a quarter of a mile from the cabin, and was
passing a clump of heavy shrubbery, when a man rose suddenly out of the
shadows beside the trail. Startled, Mustard reared, and then seeing
that the apparition was merely a man, he came quietly down and halted,
shaking his head sagely. Ferguson's right hand had dropped swiftly to
his right holster, but was raised again instantly as the man's voice
came cold and steady:

"Get your hands up--quick!"

Ferguson's hands were raised, but he gave no evidence of fear or
excitement. Instead, he leaned forward, trying, in the dim light, to
see the man's face. The latter still stood in the shadows. But now he
advanced a little toward Ferguson, and the stray-man caught his breath
sharply. But when he spoke his voice was steady.

"Why, it's Ben Radford," he said.

"That's just who it is," returned Radford. "I've been waitin' for you."

"That's right clever of you," returned Ferguson, drawling his words a
little. He was puzzled over this unusual occurrence, but his face did
not betray this. "You was wantin' to see me then," he added.

"You're keen," returned Radford, sneering slightly.

Ferguson's face reddened. "I ain't no damn fool," he said sharply.
"An' I don't like holdin' my hands up like this. I reckon whatever
you're goin' to do you ought to do right quick."

"I'm figuring to be quick," returned Radford shortly. "Ketch hold of
your guns with the tips of one finger and one thumb and drop them.
Don't hit any rocks and don't try any monkey