I did know him better. He would stick at nothing. Whatever else his smiling insolence covered, it did not hide any lack of courage to back his recklessness. He was the type of man that women find fascinating, especially women of the high-spirited, chivalrous order. You know the sort of scamp I mean—the kind whose dark, unscrupulous eyes and devil-may-care fearlessness draw the poor moths to the singeing flame. And though for his unworthiness his father two years before had shipped him to a ranch in Colorado and cut him adrift, my resurrected suspicions painted him a rival still to be feared. Katherine had liked him then; she liked him now. I knew it from the moment when the picturesque vagabond galloped up to our hotel two days before and offered her his strong brown hand and candid smile. I meditated. “Of course it is a holdup of some sort. He isn’t doing it for fun. What does he want?” Looking up, I happened to catch Katherine Gray’s eyes. They were blushing. “Oh!” I exclaimed understandingly. “Nothing of the kind! Don’t be silly, Tavis,” she told me sharply. “Then I’m hanged if I _can_ understand. I seem to be playing blind euchre with my eyes shut. First one finds Miss Katherine Gray, daughter and sole heir to Simon Gray, the Copper King, scudding over the mountains with Mr. Corduroy’s revolver barking at her.” “I told you it was accidental,” growled the bass voice. “I couldn’t catch her, so I took out my gun to frighten her into stopping.” “Then one hears that the Copper King himself is viewing scenery he does not enjoy, under enforced restraint at the hands of a young man who used to lead cotillions with his daughter before he fell into evil ways. You know I told you he was a scamp.” “Don’t be a parrot, Mr. Damron,” Katherine snapped. “I told _you_ yesterday that I wasn’t interested in your opinion of Mr. Halloway. You so often forget that you are not my chaperon.” “Of course I don’t want to rub it in, but if you had listened to——” “——Grandmother Damron. Well, I didn’t—and I’m not going to.” Miss Gray’s chin was in the air. She wheeled and began to climb the hillside. “Where are you going?” I asked. She can be very deaf on occasion. “Oh, up the hill,” she flung over her shoulder in answer to my question repeated. “But you said you weren’t going back.” “Can’t I change my mind, Grandmother?” “You don’t need to be rude,” I said sulking. I toiled in her wake, and Corduroy in mine. The pace she set soon had us puffing. Miss Gray is one of those young women who do outdoor things better than most men. She never fainted in her life, and nerves are a fairy tale to her. It always ruffles my temper and my vanity to do a twosome with her at golf. “Hello, you people! Just in time for lunch. Glad to see you, Damron,” sang out Halloway cheerily as we emerged from the aspens into view at the rear of the cliff.