The man looked inquiringly at the two women, and saw like a flash the

suspicion of the older woman, read the trust and haughty anger in the

beautiful younger face, and then smiled down on the old woman whose kindly

hospitality had saved them for a while from the terrors of the open night,

and said: "Don't you worry about her, auntie. I'm going to take good care of her,

and perhaps she'll write you a letter some day, and tell you where she is

and what she's doing."

Half reassured, the old woman gave him her name and address; and he wrote

them down in a little red notebook.

When they were well started on their way, the man explained that he had

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hurried because from conversation with the men he had learned that this

ranch where they had spent the night was on the direct trail from Malta to

another small town. It might be that the pursuers would go further than

Malta. Did she think they would go so far? They must have come almost a

hundred miles already. Would they not be discouraged?

But the girl looked surprised. A hundred miles on horseback was not far.

Her brother often used to ride a hundred miles just to see a fight or have

a good time. She felt sure the men would not hesitate to follow a long

distance if something else did not turn them aside.

The man's face looked sternly out from under his wide hat. He felt a great

responsibility for the girl since he had seen the face of the man who was

pursuing her.

Their horses were fresh, and the day was fine. They rode hard as long as

the road was smooth, and did little talking. The girl was turning over in

her mind the words the woman had spoken to her. But the thing that stuck

there and troubled her was, "And he knows it is so."

Was she doing something for which this man by her side would not respect

her? Was she overstepping some unwritten law of which she had never heard,

and did he know it, and yet encourage her in it?

That she need fear him in the least she would not believe. Had she not

watched the look of utmost respect on his face as he stood quietly waiting

for her to awake the first morning they had met? Had he not had

opportunity again and again to show her dishonor by word or look? Yet he

had never been anything but gentle and courteous to her. She did not call

things by these names, but she felt the gentleman in him.

Besides, there was the lady. He had told about her at the beginning. He

evidently honored the lady. The woman had said that the lady would not

ride with him alone. Was it true? Would he not like to have the lady ride

alone with him when she was not his relative in any way? Then was there a

difference between his thought of the lady and of herself? Of course,

there was some; he loved the lady, but he should not think less honorably

of her than of any lady in the land.




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