"One can't talk about the weather all the time." He boldly decided to slay the illusion of domesticity. "If you want to know, I have neither wife nor children." "But I've heard about them all," she retorted. "You have heard of Mrs. O'Connor, no doubt; but she happens to be the wife of a cousin of mine." The look which she flashed at him held more than doubt. "You don't believe me?" he continued. "I give you my word that I'm not married." They had left the road, and were following a short cut which wound down toward Tonti, in and out among the great boulders. The town, dwarfed to microscopic size by distance, looked, in the glare of the sunlight, as if it were made of white chalk. Along the narrow trail they went singly, Melissy leading the way. She made no answer, but at the first opportunity he forced his horse to a level with hers. "Well--you heard what I said," he challenged. "The subject is of no importance to me," she said. "It's important to me. I'm not going to have you doing me an injustice. I tell you I'm not married. You've got to believe me." Her mind was again alive with suspicions. Jack had told her Bucky O'Connor was married, and he must have known what he was talking about. "I don't know whether you are married or not. I am of the opinion that Lieutenant O'Connor has a wife and three children. More than once I have been told so," she answered. "You seem to know a heap about the gentleman." "I know what I know." "More than I do, perhaps," he suggested. Her eyes dilated. He could see suspicion take hold of her. "Perhaps," she answered quietly. "Does that mean you think I'm not Bucky O'Connor?" He had pushed his pony forward so as to cut off her advance, and both had halted for the moment. She looked at him with level, fearless eyes. "I don't know who you are." "But you think I'm not Lieutenant O'Connor of the rangers?" "I don't know whether you are or not." "There is nothing like making sure. Just look over this letter, please." She did so. It was from the governor of the Territory to the ranger officer. While he was very complimentary as to past services, the governor made it plain that he thought O'Connor must at all hazards succeed in securing the release of Simon West. This would be necessary for the good name of the Territory. Otherwise, a widespread report would go out that Arizona was a lawless place in which to live. Melissy folded the letter and handed it back. "I beg your pardon, Lieutenant O'Connor. I see that I was wrong." "Forget it, my dear. We all make mistakes." He had that curious mocking smile which so often hovered about his lips. She felt as though he were deriding her--as though his words held some hidden irony which she could not understand.