"Are you sure?" "Why, Kate, I know you couldn't do a thing like that. Don't yuh think any more about it." "I believe you do, just the same. Tom, no matter how much I disliked a person I wouldn't betray him." "I believe yuh. Honest, I do." Dorothy and O'Leary passing at this juncture, Loudon lifted his hat. Kate turned and looked after the pair. When her eyes once more met Loudon's there was a faint trouble in their black depths. "Who are they?" she queried. "Cap'n Burr's daughter an' Pete O'Leary." "Oh." There was deep meaning in that "oh." "She lives up yonder a ways. Mis' Mace knows her, I guess." "How nice! Perhaps I shall meet her. I should like to, really. Tell me, do you know her well?" "Not very well. Yuh see, I ain't in town such a lot. Say, Kate, did Mis' Mace write an' tell yuh I was up here at the Bend?" "Yes, I believe she did." Kate's tone was ingenuous. But the quick upward fling of her eyes was not. "Did yuh tell yore father an' the boys?" "Why, I don't remember, Tom. I might have. Very possibly I did. Why?" "I was just a-wonderin'." "You mean----" gasped Kate, her eyes widening with genuine horror. At first, misinterpreting the trend of his questioning, she had believed him brazenly fishing. Now she understood the significance underlying his words. She wanted to scream. But half the street was watching them. Underlip caught between her teeth, she sucked in her breath. Piteously her eyes searched Loudon's face. "Tom!" she breathed. "Tom! You do think I betrayed you after all. Oh, Tom, Tom!" It was Loudon's turn to be distressed. "Yo're on the wrong trail, Kate," he soothed. "I know yuh didn't tell Block or the 88 outfit. But if the Bar S boys knowed I was up here it could easy get around. Richie o' the Cross-in-a-box an' Cap'n Burr knowed, too. They might 'a' let it out. I'm sorry I asked yuh if it makes yuh feel that way." "Oh, I see it now. I must have told. And it was my telling that sent Block up here. Tom, if he had taken you south and--and anything had happened, it--it would have killed me. Life just wouldn't have been worth living any longer." Was ever mortal man in a similar predicament? Here was a beautiful woman baring her heart to him in broad daylight on a public thoroughfare. Cold prickles raced madly up and down Loudon's spine. What could he say? He had a wild impulse to whirl his horse and gallop after Scotty. Obviously this was the safer course to follow. Weakly he temporized. "Kate, do yuh know what yo're sayin'?" "Of course. Why shouldn't I say it? I love you, don't you know that? There, it's out! I suppose I ought to be ashamed of myself, but I'm not. I'm glad."