She examined the Colt's gun curiously. She asked him how to handle it. He obligingly broke it, emptied the cylinders and explained how it was fired. But she was not equal to handling the big thing, and told him so. "Though if I should want to kill you now it would be easy, wouldn't it?" she reflected, after he had reloaded the gun and laid it in her hand, the muzzle pointing toward himself and her finger resting on the trigger. "Not without cocking the gun." "No, but I mean suppose I really _should_ want to kill you----" "I'll show you." He cocked the revolver and placed it again in her hand and it lay once more with her finger on the trigger. "Now," he explained, "I'm covered." "And to kill you all I have to do is to pull the trigger." "Pulling the trigger, the way things are now, would certainly be a big start in that direction. But"--the dry suspicion of a laugh crossed his eyes--"to point a gun at a man and pull the trigger doesn't always kill him--not, anyways, in this country. If it did, the population would fall off pretty strong in some of these northern counties. And you might be surprised if I told you you couldn't pull the trigger right now, anyway." "How do you know that?" "Try it." "But I might kill you!" "That's the point." "Nevertheless," she persisted, "I could if I _wanted_ to." "No matter how you put it, it's all the same--you can't want to." "No, but suppose I were bound to keep you from doing something--like serving papers, for instance." His legs were crossed under him and he was tossing bits of the gravel under his hand: "You'd have a better show to do that if you went at it in another way." "What way?" "Well--by asking me not to serve them, for instance." "Do you mean to say if I asked you not to serve papers you wouldn't do it?" She eyed him with simulated indignation. He returned her gaze unafraid: "Try it," was his answer. She took a deep breath. Then she tossed her head: "I probably shouldn't care enough about it for that. Why don't you carry two revolvers?" "Too much like baggage." "Wouldn't it be a lot safer?" He smiled: "If one gun refused to go off promptly, two wouldn't help a lot." Her eyes and her thoughts returned to the gun in her hand. For a moment she had forgotten it. Suppose her finger, while she was talking, had mechanically closed on the trigger. She blanched. "Take it," she said, holding the gun out in both hands and looking away. "Shall we let the dog go this time?" she heard him ask as he lowered the hammer. CHAPTER VII THE CLOSE OF THE DAY They rode straight home. On the way Dick went lame and both dismounted to examine him. "This will make you miss your train," she suggested, hypocritically. He had Dick's foot up. His comment on the remark was very like the rest of his comments. "Not this," he said--and without looking up. "Do you mean to say you've missed it anyway?" asked Kate. "What does the sun say?"