“He's more than I can tell,” replied Mrs. Laramie. “He buried Jim. He paid our debts. He fetched us here. He bought food for us. He cooked for us and fed us. He washed and dressed the baby. He sat with me the first two nights after Jim's death, when I thought I'd die myself. He's so kind, so gentle, so patient. He has kept me up just by being near. Sometimes I'd wake from a doze, an', seeing him there, I'd know how false were all these tales Jim heard about him and believed at first. Why, he plays with the children just--just like any good man might. When he has the baby up I just can't believe he's a bloody gunman, as they say. He's good, but he isn't happy. He has such sad eyes. He looks far off sometimes when the children climb round him. They love him. His life is sad. Nobody need tell me--he sees the good in things. Once he said somebody had to be a ranger. Well, I say, 'Thank God for a ranger like him!'” Duane did not want to hear more, so he walked into the room. “It was thoughtful of you,” Duane said. “Womankind are needed here. I could do so little. Mrs. Laramie, you look better already. I'm glad. And here's baby, all clean and white. Baby, what a time I had trying to puzzle out the way your clothes went on! Well, Mrs. Laramie, didn't I tell you--friends would come? So will the brighter side.” “Yes, I've more faith than I had,” replied Mrs. Laramie. “Granger Longstreth's daughter has come to me. There for a while after Jim's death I thought I'd sink. We have nothing. How could I ever take care of my little ones? But I'm gaining courage to--” “Mrs. Laramie, do not distress yourself any more,” said Miss Longstreth. “I shall see you are well cared for. I promise you.” “Miss Longstreth, that's fine!” exclaimed Duane. “It's what I'd have--expected of you.” It must have been sweet praise to her, for the whiteness of her face burned out in a beautiful blush. “And it's good of you, too, Miss Herbert, to come,” added Duane. “Let me thank you both. I'm glad I have you girls as allies in part of my lonely task here. More than glad for the sake of this good woman and the little ones. But both of you be careful about coming here alone. There's risk. And now I'll be going. Good-by, Mrs. Laramie. I'll drop in again to-night. Good-by.” “Mr. Ranger, wait!” called Miss Longstreth, as he went out. She was white and wonderful. She stepped out of the door close to him. “I have wronged you,” she said, impulsively. “Miss Longstreth! How can you say that?” he returned. “I believed what my father and Floyd Lawson said about you. Now I see--I wronged you.” “You make me very glad. But, Miss Longstreth, please don't speak of wronging me. I have been a--a gunman, I am a ranger--and much said of me is true. My duty is hard on others--sometimes on those who are innocent, alas! But God knows that duty is hard, too, on me.” “I did wrong you. If you entered my home again I would think it an honor. I--”