“March him home, and send him in to the nearest sheriff.” Keith was businesslike, and his tone was crisp. Beatrice's eyes turned again to Kelly. He did not whine, or beg, or even curse. He stood looking straight before him, at something only his memory could see, and in his face was weariness, and a deep loneliness, and a certain, grim despair. There was an ugly bruise where the rock had struck, but the rest of his face was drawn and white. “If you do that,” cried Beatrice, in a voice hardly more than a fierce whisper, “I shall hate you always. You are not a man-hunter. Let him stay here, and take his chance in the hills.” Keith was not a hard man to persuade into being merciful. “It's easy enough to say yes, Miss Lansell. I always was chicken-hearted when a fellow seemed down on his luck. You can stay here, Kelly--I don't want you, anyway.” He laughed boyishly and irresponsibly, for he felt that Kelly had done him a service that day. Beatrice flashed him a smile that went to his head and made him dizzy, and took up Rex's bridle rein. She hesitated, looked doubtfully at Kelly, who stood waiting stoically, and turned to her saddle. She untied a bundle and went quickly over to him. “You--I don't want my lunch, after all. I'm going home now. I--I want you to take it, please. There are some sandwiches--with veal loaf, that Looey Sam makes deliciously--and some cake. I--I wish it was more. I know you'll like the veal loaf.” Kelly looked down at her, and God knows what thoughts were in his mind. He did not answer her with words; he just swallowed hard. “Poor devil!” was what Keith said to himself, and the gun he was holding threatened, for a minute, to wing a cloud. Beatrice laid the package in Kelly's unresisting hand, looked up into his averted face and said simply: “Good-by, Mr. Kelly.” After that she hurried Rex up the steep ridge much faster than she had gone down it, endangering his bones and putting herself very empty lunged. At the top of the ridge Keith stopped and looked down. “Hi, Kelly!” Kelly showed that he heard. “Here's your gun, on this rock. You can come up and get it, if you want to. And--say! I've got a few broke horses ranging down here somewhere. VN brand, on left shoulder. I won't scour the hills, very bad, if I should happen to miss a cayuse. So long!” Kelly waved his hand for farewell. CHAPTER 13. Keith's Masterful Wooing.