"That has been said by a great many people, hasn't it? I've heard it many times. I reckon you have, too. But it's a fact, just the same. The world _is_ a small place. Take us three. You"--he said, pointing to Langford--"come out here from Albany and buy a ranch. You"--he smiled at Sheila--"came with your father as a matter of course. You"--he looked again at Langford--"might have bought a ranch in another part of the country. You didn't need to buy this particular one. But you did. Take me. I spent five years in Dakota before I came here. I've been here five years. "A man up in Dakota wanted me to stay there; said he'd do most anything for me if I would. But I didn't like Dakota; something kept telling me that I ought to move around a little. I came here, I liked the place, and I've stayed here. I know that neither of you are very much interested in what has happened to me, but I've told you that much just to prove my contention about the world being a small place. It surely isn't so very big when you consider that three persons can meet up like we've met--our trails leading us to the same section of the country." "I don't see how that concerns us," said Langford impatiently. "No," returned Dakota, and now there was a note of sarcasm in his voice, "you don't see. Lots of folks don't see. But there are trails that lead everywhere. Fate marks them out--blazes them. There are trails that lead us into trouble, others that lead us to pleasure--straight trails, crooked ones, trails that cross--all kinds. Folks start out on a crooked trail, trying to get away from something, but pretty soon another trail crosses the one they are on--maybe it will be a straight one that crosses theirs, with a straight man riding it. "The man riding the crooked trail and the man riding the straight one meet at the place where the trails cross. Such trails don't lead to any to-morrow; they are yesterday's trails, and before the man riding the crooked trail and the man riding the straight trail can go any further there has got to be an accounting. That is what has happened here. You"--he smiled gravely as he looked at Langford--"have been riding a crooked trail. I have been hanging onto the straight one as best I could. Now we've got to where the trails cross." "Meaning that you want an explanation of my action in burning that signed agreement, I suppose?" sneered Langford, looking up. "Still trying to ride the crooked trail?" smiled Dakota, with the first note of mockery that Sheila had heard in his voice since he had begun speaking. "I'm not worrying a bit about that agreement. Why, man, I'd have shot myself before I'd have shot Doubler. He's my friend--the only real friend I've had in ten years." "Then when you signed the agreement you didn't mean to keep it?" questioned Langford incautiously, disarmed by Dakota's earnestness.