“Shall I tell you why your hand went to your breast when I first mentioned that the train was going to be held up, and again when your father’s eyes were firing a mighty pointed question at you?” “I don’t know what you mean,” she retorted, again mistress of herself. Her gallant bearing compelled his admiration. The scornful eyes, the satirical lift of the nostrils, the erect, graceful figure, all flung a challenge at him. He called himself hard names for putting her on the rack, but the necessity to make her believe in him was strong within him. “I noticed you went right chalky when I announced the hold-up, and I thought it was because you were scared. That was where I did you an injustice, ma’am, and you can call this an apology. You’ve got sand. If it hadn’t been for what you carry in the chamois skin hanging on the chain round your neck you would have enjoyed every minute of the little entertainment. You’re as game as they make them.” “May I ask how you arrived at this melodramatic conclusion?” she asked, her disdainful lip curling. “By using my eyes and my ears, ma’am. I shouldn’t have noticed your likeness to Major Mackenzie, perhaps, if I hadn’t observed that there was a secret understanding between you. Now, whyfor should you be passing as strangers? I could guess one reason, and only one. There have twice been attempted hold-ups of the paymaster of the Yuba reservoir. It was to avoid any more of these that Major Mackenzie took charge personally of paying the men. He has made good up till now. But there have been rumors for months that he would be held up either before leaving the train or while he was crossing the desert. He didn’t want to be seen taking the boodle from the express company at Tucson. He would rather have the impression get out that this was just a casual visit. It occurred to him to bring along some unsuspected party to help him out. The robbers would never expect to find the money on a woman. That’s why the major brought his daughter with him. Doesn’t it make you some uneasy to be carrying fifty thousand in small bills sewed in your clothes and hung round your neck?” She broke into musical laughter, natural and easy. “I don’t happen to have fifty thousand with me.” “Oh, well, say forty thousand. I’m no wizard to guess the exact figure.” Her swift glance at him was almost timid. “Nor forty thousand,” she murmured. “I should think, ma’am, you’d crinkle more than a silk-lined lady sailing down a church aisle on Sunday.” A picture in the magazine she was toying with seemed to interest her. “I expect that’s the signal for ‘Exit Collins.’ I’ll say good-by till next time, Miss Mackenzie.” “Oh, is there going to be a next time?” she asked, with elaborate carelessness. “Several of them.” “Indeed!” He took a notebook from his pocket and wrote. “I ain’t the son of a prophet, but I’m venturing a prediction,” he explained. She had nothing to say, and she said it competently.