“A foine horse she has,” commented Golightly, in a low tone, as the girl came nearer. “Never seen er white bronk thet was wuth his keep,” demurred Nomad. “Yez are lookin’ at wan now, thin,” insisted Golightly. “She do be callin’ av him ‘Silver Heels.’” “Silver Heels!” muttered the old trapper. “Et’s er name thet stacks up fine with Dauntless Dell. Mebbyso thar’s somethin’ back er all them fine feathers, but I won’t believe et till I’m showed.” “Howdy?” called the girl, bringing Silver Heels to a halt. “Whyever did you push into this chase and scare those two ombrays away?” This last question was a startler. Nomad rubbed his chin and silently turned it over in his mind. “Golightly,” the girl went on, “you ought to have known better, even if that grizzly old warrior in front of you didn’t.” Nomad gulped hard on a swear-word. What was the girl trying to get at, anyhow? “Waal, I reckon!” growled the old trapper. “Say, I’ve been a grizzled warrior fer three times as many y’ars as you’ve been on airth, an’ I ain’t never yit seen ther time when I wouldn’t interfere with two masked tinhorns as was er chasin’ er lady.” The girl leaned back in her saddle, stared a minute, then gave vent to a rippling laugh. “Glory be, Dell,” said Golightly, “yez hadn’t ought t’ talk like that. This gint is Buffalo Bill’s pard, ould Nomad.” A smile still twitched at the girl’s lips, but there was interest and gratification in her blue eyes as she held out one gauntleted hand to the trapper. “Shake, old Nomad,” said she. “I’m Dell--Dell Dauntless of the Double D Ranch. Any fellow who trains with Buffalo Bill must be in the list of big high boys. You didn’t understand what I was trying to do, that’s all. But I’ll forgive you. Your intentions were all right, I reckon.” Nomad took the small hand gingerly. “What in blazes was ye doin’, miss, ef ye warn’t tryin’ ter git erway from them thar masked riders?” “Well, I was plugging along for the gulch,” said Dell; “the gulch is rocky and crooked. I was intending to round in under the lee of a boulder, draw a bead on the two masked men”--she slapped at a brace of holsters as she spoke, such small holsters that they had, up till then, escaped the trapper’s eye--“and make them tell me what their game was.” “Their game was ter ketch ye,” averred Nomad. “But why? So far as I can tell, I never met the men before.” “Them leetle poppers look ter be rale cute,” hazarded Nomad, “but them fellers is so hardened, I’m afeared yer toy bullets wouldn’t hev punctured ’em.” “They’re sawed-off thirty-eights,” said the girl promptly, jerking one of the weapons into view. “I can take your sizing, all right, Nomad. You think I’m too much of a spectacle to make good in a fight. I’ll admit to you that I don’t like rowdyism. I try to be a lady, both at home on the ranch and when I’m abroad in the hills. But I don’t think any the less of a lady because she’s able to take care of herself. Do you?” “Nary, I don’t,” said Nomad.