"When you're fighting a woman, Langford, you ought to make sure there isn't a man around!" Mingling with Sheila's recognition of the obvious and admirable philosophy of this statement was a realization that Dakota must have been riding hard. There was much dust on his clothing, the scarf at his neck was thick with it; it streaked his face, his voice was husky, his lips dry. Langford did not answer him, stepping back against the desk and regarding him with a mirthless, forced smile which, Sheila was certain, he had assumed in order to conceal his fear of the man who stood before him. "So you haven't got any thoughts just at this minute," said Dakota with cold insinuation. "You are one of those men who can talk bravely enough to women, but who can't think of anything exactly proper for a man to hear. Well, you'll do your talking later." He looked at Sheila, ignoring Langford completely. "I expect you've been wondering, ma'am, why I'm here, when I ought to be over at the Two Forks, trying to do something for Doubler. But the doctor's there, taking care of him. The reason I've come is that I've found this in Doublet's cabin." He drew out the memoranda which Sheila had placed on the shelf in the cabin, holding it up so that she might see. "You took my vest," he went on. "And I was looking for it. I found it all right, but something was missing. You're the only one who has been to Doubler's cabin since I left there, I expect, and it must have been you who opened this book. It isn't in the same shape it was when you pulled it off me when I was talking to you down there on the river trail--something has been taken out of it, a paper. That's why I rode over here--to see if you'd got it. Have you, ma'am?" Sheila pointed mutely to the floor, where a bit of thin, crinkled ash was all that remained of the signed agreement. "Burned!" said Dakota sharply. He caught Sheila's nod and questioned coldly: "Who burned it?" "My--Mr. Langford," returned Sheila. "You found it and showed it to him, and he burned it," said Dakota slowly. "Why?" "Don't you see?" Sheila's eyes mocked Langford as she intercepted his gaze, which had been fixed on Dakota. "It was evidence against him," she concluded, indicating her father. "I reckon I see." The smile was entirely gone out of Dakota's face now, and as he turned to look at Langford there was an expression in his eyes which chilled the latter. "You've flunked on the agreement. You've burned it--won't recognize it, eh? Well, I'm not any surprised." Langford had partially recovered from the shock occasioned by Dakota's unexpected appearance, and he shook his head in emphatic, brazen denial. "There was no agreement between us, my friend," he said. "The paper I burned was a forgery."