"Who--me?" parried Bowles, lapsing into the vernacular. "Why, you know me! I'm Bowles, the gentleman you met at Mrs. Melvine's." "There! You see?" commented Dixie. "You're afraid to tell your own name, and I'm----" "Yes?" questioned Bowles. "Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of," she went on bluntly, "but I've got _something_ on my mind." "Why, surely," began Bowles, apprehensively, "I--I hope I haven't given offense in any way. You were hurt, you know--and I was a little excited--and----" "Oh, that's all right," said Dixie heartily. "You're a perfect gentleman--I always knew that. But you haven't had much to do with women, have you, Mr. Bowles?" Her voice trailed off a little at the close, and Bowles looked up at her mystified. He thought quickly, wondering where she was leading him, and decided to tell the truth. "Why, no, Miss Lee," he stammered, "I suppose not. I hope I haven't----" "Oh, no, no!" cried Dixie. "I don't mean that. I was just thinking--well, I mustn't take advantage of you, then." She favored him with one of her sudden, tantalizing smiles, and his brain whirled as he looked away. "No," he muttered, taking a deep breath; "it wouldn't be fair, you know." "Well, go and cinch up my horse, then," she said, "and I'll make an exception of you." He looked up at her suddenly, startled by the way she spoke, and went to do her will. "Now," he announced, when the horse was ready, "shall I help you while you mount?" "Why, yes," she said, "if you think it's safe!" And then he gathered her into his arms. "I'll be careful," he said. But the devil tempted him--and Dixie forgot and smiled. "Never mind," she whispered, as he lifted her to the saddle; "that was to pay you for being nurse." CHAPTER XIX A COMMON BRAWL There is a madness which comes to certain people at certain times and makes them forget the whole world. In such a moment Bowles had stolen a kiss--for the first time in his life--and Dixie Lee had forgiven him. He had stolen it quickly, and she had forgiven him quickly, and then they had ridden on together without daring so much as a glance. That kiss had meant a great deal to both of them, and they needed time to think. So they rode down to the hold-up herd in silence and parted without a word. Dixie went on to camp, to rest and care for her hurts; and Bowles, with a sad and preoccupied smile, stayed by to help with the herd. But the jealous eyes of hate are quick to read such smiles, and as Bowles rode along on the swing he was suddenly startled out of his dreams. Hardy Atkins went out of his way to ride past him, and as he spurred his horse in against his stirrup he hissed: "You leave my girl alone, you blankety-blank!" and went muttering on his way.