"Wait a minute," she whispered in a strained voice. "I want to say something, too, before you go. I don't want you to go away thinking that I knew anything of Smith's plans; that I knew he was going to steal cattle; that he was trying to make a 'stake' for us--for _me_. It is all a misunderstanding." Dora was looking straight ahead of her, and did not see the change which came over Ralston's face. "I never thought of Smith in any way except to help him," she went on. "He seemed different from most that stopped here, and I thought if I could just start him right, if only I could show him what he might do if he tried, he might be better for my efforts. And, after all, my time and good intentions were wasted. He deceived me in making me think that he too wanted to make more of his life, and that he was trying. And then to make such a speech before you all!" "Don't think about it--or Smith," Ralston answered. "He has come to his inevitable end. When there's bad blood, mistaken ideals, and wrong standards of living, you can't do much--you can't do anything. There is only one thing which controls men of his type, and that is fear--fear of the law. His love for you is undoubtedly the best, the whitest, thing that ever came into his life, but it couldn't keep him straight, and never would. Don't worry. Your efforts haven't hurt him, or you. You are wiser, and maybe he is better." "It's awfully good of you to comfort me," said Dora gratefully. "Good of me?" he laughed softly. "Little Schoolmarm"--he laid a hand upon each shoulder and looked into her eyes--"I love you." Her pupils dilated, and she breathed in wonder. "You _love_ me?" "I do." He brushed back a wisp of hair which had blown across her cheek, and, stooping, kissed her deliberately upon the mouth. Inside the house a radiant Mongolian rushed from the pantry window into the room where Susie sat. He carried a nearly empty bottle which had once contained lemon extract, and his almond eyes danced as he handed it to her, whispering gleefully: "All light! Good medicine!" The big kerosene lamp screwed to the wall in the living-room had long since been lighted, but Susie still sat on the floor, leaning her cheek against the blanket which covered the Indian woman. The house was quiet save for Ling in the kitchen--and lonely--but she had a fancy that her mother would like to have her there beside her; so, although she was cramped from sitting, and the house was close after a hot day, she refused all offers to relieve her. She was glad to see McArthur when he tapped on the door. "I thought you'd like to read the letter that came with the picture," he said, as he pulled up a chair beside her. "I want you to know how welcome you will be."