"Sho! That's nonsense, Miss Kate." He twisted his hat in his hand uneasily. "Honest, I enjoyed every bit of it. And a fellow has to pay his debts." "Was that why you did it?" she asked softly. "Yes. I had to make good. I had to show your father and you that I had not thrown away all your kindness. So I quit travelling that downhill road on which I had got started." "I'm glad--I'm so glad." She whispered it so low he could hardly hear. "There was one way to prove myself. That was to stand between Sam and trouble. So I butted in and spoiled Soapy's game." "I wish I could tell you how fine Father thinks it was of you. He doesn't speak of it much, but I know." "Nothing to what I did--nothing at all." A wave of embarrassment had crept to the roots of his curly hair. "Just because a fellow--Oh, shucks!" "That's all very well for you to say, but you can't help us thinking what we please." "But that ain't right. I don't want you thinking things that ain't so because----" "Yes? Because----?" She lifted her eyes and met his. Then she knew it had to come out, that the feeling banked in him would overflow in words. "Because you're the girl I love." He had not intended to say it now, lest he might seem to be urging his services as a claim upon her. But the words had slipped out in spite of him. She held out her two hands to him with a little gesture of surrender. The light of love was in her starry eyes. And then---- She was in his arms, and the kisses he had dreamed about were on his lips. CHAPTER XVIII CUTTING TRAIL Kate Cullison had disappeared, had gone out riding one morning and at nightfall had not returned. As the hours passed, anxiety at the Circle C became greater. "Mebbe she got lost," Bob suggested. Her father scouted this as absurd. "Lost nothing. You couldn't lose her within forty miles of the ranch. She knows this country like a cow does the range. And say she was lost--all she would have to do would be to give that pinto his head and he'd hit a bee line for home. No, nor she ain't had an accident either, unless it included the pony too." "You don't reckon a cougar----," began Sweeney, and stopped. Luck looked at his bandy-legged old rider with eyes in which little cold devils sparkled. "A human cougar, I'll bet. This time I'll take his hide off inch by inch while he's still living." "You thinking of Fendrick?" asked Sam. "You've said it." Sweeney considered, rasping his stubbly chin. "I don't reckon Cass would do Miss Kate a meanness. He's a white man, say the worst of him. But it might be Blackwell. When last seen he was heading into the hills. If he met her----" A spasm of pain shot across Luck's face. "My God! That would be awful." "By Gum, there he is now, Luck." Sweeney's finger pointed to an advancing rider. Cullison swung as on a pivot in time to see someone drop into the dip in the road, just beyond the corral. "Who--Blackwell?" "No. Cass."