Noticing his abstraction Swingley rallied Bertram about it. “Things’ll be more lively, soon after we leave Denver,” he said, pausing at the young Texan’s seat. “We’ve got some more people to meet there, and we’ll be tied up several hours. I want you to help me keep an eye on some of these drunken punchers, to see that they don’t wander away where we can’t get ’em.” At Denver the motley crew piled off the special and swooped down upon the station. Swingley’s orders against “seeing the town” were strict, but some of the cow-punchers attempted to slip away and were turned back. It was evening, and, in the half-light on the station platform, Bertram thought he recognized a woman’s figure, as it flitted around the corner of the building. A few hasty steps brought him to the side of the young lady whose ticket he had purchased. “I see that the ticket we got wasn’t counterfeit, and you arrived here, all right,” observed Bertram delightedly. He saw that she had smiled, as she greeted him, and she seemed genuinely pleased, in spite of the evident perturbation under which she was laboring. “Yes,” she said, “but I’m afraid all your generosity has been in vain.” “What’s the trouble? Is there any way I can help you further?” Bertram was looking at her, as he spoke. Her face was pale, but evidently owing to the mental strain. Her eyes just now were clouded with sadness, and her voice trembled with agitation. “You’ve done enough as it is,” she answered--“more than any other stranger has ever done for me. I’ve met friends here, and now I can pay you the money for my ticket.” “I didn’t want you to bother about that,” said Bertram, as she opened her pocketbook and counted out the bills into his reluctant hand. “Settling this thing deprives me of a chance of meeting you again, unless you’re going to be kind enough to let me meet you, anyway.” Even in the semidarkness Bertram could see the girl’s quick blush, as he went on speaking. “I’m going to be honest enough to say that I admire you a whole lot. I’ve been counting on hearing from you later on. Won’t you tell me your name?” “It would do no good,” said the girl. Then, with an earnestness that startled Bertram, she added: “but, if you want to please me and do the right thing by yourself, you will go no further on this expedition.” “I can’t do that, because it would be going back on my word,” replied Bertram. “But why should I leave the expedition?” “If you don’t, there will be the death of honest men on your hands,” said the girl. “Why did you promise to go with a man like Swingley, anyway?” “Just plain foolishness, I guess, the same as any other soldier of fortune shows.” “Those men are not soldiers of fortune--they are soldiers of murder,” exclaimed the girl. “If you go on with them you’ll be one with them.” “Then it means something to you?” asked Bertram triumphantly. “Yes,” said the girl, with another quick flush. “It means just what it would if I saw any young man on the wrong road.”