“Not at all. I’ll be glad to death to see you blundering in again when Miss Mackenzie isn’t here to beg you off. The point is that in exchange for your freedom and Miss Mackenzie’s I get those papers you left in a safety-deposit vault in Epitaph. It’ll save me the trouble of sticking up the First National and winging a few indiscreet citizens of that burgh. Savvy?” “That’s all you ask?” demanded the surprised sheriff. “All I ask is to get those papers in my hand and a four-hour start before you begin the hunt. Is it a deal?” “It’s a deal, but I give it to you straight that I’ll be after you as soon as the four hours are up,” returned Collins promptly. “I don’t know what magic Miss Mackenzie used. Still, I must compliment her on getting us out mighty easy.” But though the sheriff looked smilingly at Alice, that young woman, usually mistress of herself in all emergencies, did not lift her eyes to meet his. Indeed, he thought her strangely embarrassed. She was as flushed and tongue-tied as a country girl in unaccustomed company. She seemed another woman than the self-possessed young beauty he had met a month before on the Limited, but he found her shy abashment charming. “I guess you thought you had come to the end of the passage, Mr. Collins,” suggested the outlaw, with listless curiosity. “I didn’t know whether to order the flowers or not, but way down in my heart I was backing my luck,” Collins told him. “Of course it’s understood that you are on parole until we separate,” said Leroy curtly. “Of course.” “Then we’ll have supper at once, for we’ll have to be on the road early.” He clapped his hands together, and the Mexican woman appeared. Her master flung out a command or two in her own language. “_Poco tiempo_,” she answered, and disappeared. In a surprisingly short time the meal was ready, set out on a table white with Irish linen and winking with cut glass and silver. “Mr. Leroy does not believe at all in doing when in Rome as the Romans do,” Alice explained to Collins, in answer to his start of amazement. “He’s a regular Aladdin. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised to see electric lights come on next.” “One has to attempt sometimes to blot out the forsaken desert,” said Leroy. “Try this cut of slow elk, Miss Mackenzie. I think you’ll like it.” “Slow elk! What is that?” asked the girl, to make talk. “Mr. Collins will tell you,” smiled Leroy. She turned to the sheriff, who first apologized, with a smile, to his host. “Slow elk, Miss Mackenzie, is veal that has been rustled. I expect Mr. Leroy has pressed a stray calf into our Service.” “I see,” she flashed. “Pressed veal.” The outlaw smiled at her ready wit, and took on himself the burden of further explanation. “And this particular slow elk comes from a ranch on the Aravaipa owned by Mr. Collins. York shot it up in the hills a day or two ago.”