What on earth was she to thank him for? He helped her out: "Before you go," he interrupted, sitting up on the counter stool nearest her and looking at her without paying the slightest attention to her meaningless words, "before you go, tell me your name." Oddly enough, by just speaking he restored order to her faculties. She looked straight at him: "You guessed that this morning," she said frankly. "Kate?" She nodded. "That's queer," he mused. "It must've been pure accident. I heard that the man I came to round up today had a girl named Kate, so I suppose that was the first name came into my head. Kate, what else?" "Suppose," she suggested gravely, "we keep the rest for the next time." "For our next ride?" She looked just away from his persistent eyes: "Perhaps." "Will your name," he went on, "surprise me as much as my name surprised you?" "Who knows?" she retorted, and speaking she started for the front door. "Stop." He stepped in front of her just enough to bar her way. There was a tinge of command in his voice and manner quite new. Halted, but not pleased, she waited for him to go on: "You'll come back, won't you?" "I'll try to." "I want to listen," he added coolly, "to the worst story you ever heard about Jim Laramie." "I don't pay much attention to cowboy stories." He certainly paid no attention to her words: "Will you come back?" he persisted. "I will if I can," she said, confusedly. He was just enough in front of her to detain her: "Say you will." It was somewhat between command and entreaty. Old Henry at the side of the platform was just mounting the dun horse. Kate was getting panicky: "Very well," she answered, "I'll come back." The moment she got to the cottage she locked the front door and drew all the shades. And every mouthful of the cold supper she ate with her father lodged in her throat. To him she dared not say a word. Once in the evening the door bell rang and some man asked for Barb Doubleday. He made a few inquiries when Henry answered that Doubleday was not in town, but he did not ask for Kate. She felt curious tremors, listening to the low voice. But Laramie--for it was he--presently turned from the door and she heard his footsteps crunching down the gravel path to the street.