"Oh, it's a shame!" she cried, her eyes growing moist. She made a gesture of helplessness and looked him full in the eyes. "Whatever you have done in the past, you will give them no cause to say such things in the future, will you? You will leave it all behind you and get work, and not be an outlaw any more, won't you? You will prove my faith in you, for I _have_ faith in you, won't you? It will all be forgotten," she added, as if her words made it so. Then she leaned forward to readjust the bandage. "There, now it's all right--you must not touch it again like that." "You are alone in your faith," he replied bitterly, not daring to look at her. "Oh, I reckon not," muttered Bill, scowling at the stage as if he would like to unhitch and leave it there. Then seeing The Orphan glance at the horse which was grazing contentedly, he went out to capture the animal. "D----d old hen, that's what she is!" he muttered fiercely. "I don't care if she is the sheriff's sister, that's just what she is! Just a regular ingrowing disposition!" "You are kind, as kind as you are beautiful," The Orphan responded simply. "But you don't know." She flushed at his words and then decided that he spoke in simple sincerity. "I know that you are going to do differently," she replied as she extended her hand again. "Good-by." He bowed his head as he took it and flushed: "Good-by." She slowly turned and walked toward the coach, where she was received by a chilling silence. Bill brought the horse to where The Orphan stood lost in thought, unbuckled his cartridge belt and wrapped it around the pommel of the saddle, the heavy Colt still in the holster. Then he clambered up for his rifle and tied it to the saddle skirt by the thongs of leather which dangled therefrom. Looking about him he espied the keg on the sand and, driving home the plug, slung it behind the cantle of the saddle where he fastend it by the straps which held the outlaw's "slicker." Jamming the package of tobacco into the pocket of the garment he stepped back and grinned sheepishly at his generous gifts. He turned abruptly and strode to the outlaw and shoved out his hand. "There, pardner, shake!" he cried heartily. "Yore the best man in the whole d----d cow country, and I'll tell 'em so, too, by God!" The outlaw came out of his reverie and looked him searchingly in the face as he gripped the outstretched hand with a grip which made the driver wince. "Don't be a fool, Bill," he replied. "You'll get yourself disliked if you enthuse about me." Then he noticed the additions to his equipment and frowned: "You better take those things, I can't. The spirit is enough."