"Indeed I have, then--a many of them, but you have surprised me. I used to think that's how it would end; and then--well, then, a different notion got in my head. Now that it's settled, I do hope you will be happy. Bless the child! I'll go and tell her so this minute." "No," he said, quickly, "let her and Dan have their talk out--if she will talk to him. That fever left her queer in some things, and one of them is her avoidance of Dan. She hasn't been free and friendly with him as she used to be, and it is too bad; for he is such a good fellow, and would do anything for her." "Yes, he would," assented Mrs. Huzzard. "And she will be her own spirited self in a few weeks--when she gets away from here--and gets stronger. She'll appreciate Dan more after a while, for there are few like him. And so--as she is to go away so soon, I hope something will put them on their former confidential footing. Maybe this murder will be the something." "You are a good friend, Mr. Max," said the woman, slowly, "and you deserve to be a lucky lover. I'm sure I hope so." Within the cabin, those two of whom they spoke stood together beside the dead outlaw, and their words were low--so low that the paralyzed man in the next room listened in vain. "And you believed that of me--of me?" he asked, and she answered, falteringly: "How did I know? You said--you threatened--you would kill him--any man you found in here. So, when he was here dead, I--did not know." "And you thought I had stuck that knife in him and left?" She nodded her head. "And you thought," he continued, in a voice slightly tremulous, "that you were giving me a chance to escape just so long as you let them suspect--you?" She did not answer, but turned toward the door. He held his arm out and barred her way. "Only a moment!" he said, pleadingly. "It never can be that--that I would be anything to you, little girl--never, never! But--just once--let me tell you a truth that shall never hurt you, I swear! I love you! No other word but that will tell your dearness to me. I--I never would have said it, but--but what you risked for me has broken me down. It has told me more than your words would tell me, and I--Oh, God! my God!" She shrank from the passion in his words and tone, but the movement only made him catch her arm and hold her there. Tears were in his eyes as he looked at her, and his jaws were set firmly. "You are afraid of me--of me?" he asked. "Don't be. Life will be hard enough now without leaving me that to remember. I'm not asking a word in return from you; I have no right. You will be happy somewhere else--and with some one else--and that is right." He still held her wrist, and they stood in silence. She could utter no word; but her mouth trembled and she tried to smother a sob that arose in her throat. But he heard it.