She swept him casually with an indifferent glance. “And isn’t that what you are in real life?” His sharp scrutiny chiseled into her. “What’s that?” “You won’t mind if I forget and call you Mr. Bannister instead of Mr. Holloway?” She thought his counterfeit astonishment perfect. “So I’m Ned Bannister, am I?” Their eyes clashed. “Aren’t you?” She felt sure of it, and yet there was a lurking doubt. For there was in his manner something indescribably more sinister than she had felt in him on that occasion when she had saved his life. Then a debonair recklessness had been the outstanding note, but now there was something ribald and wicked in him. “Since y’u put it as a question, common politeness demands an answer. Ned Bannister is my name.” “You are the terror of this country?” “I shan’t be a terror to y’u, ma’am, if I can help it,” he smiled. “But you are the man they call the king?” “I have that honor.” “_Honor?_” At the sharp scorn of her accent he laughed. “Do you mean that you are proud of your villainy?” she demanded. “Y’u’ve ce’tainly got the teacher habit of asking questions,” he replied with a laugh that was a sneer. A shadow fell across them and a voice said quietly, “She didn’t wait to ask any when she saved your life down in the coulée back of the Lazy D.” The shadow was Jim McWilliams’s, and its owner looked down at the man beside the girl with steady, hostile eyes. “Is this your put in, sir?” the other flashed back. “Yes, seh, it is. The boys don’t quite like seeing your hardware so prominent at a social gathering. In this community guns don’t come into the house at a ranch dance. I’m a committee to mention the subject and to collect your thirty-eights if y’u agree with us.” “And if I don’t agree with you?” “There’s all outdoors ready to receive y’u, seh. It would be a pity to stay in the one spot where your welcome’s wore thin.” “Still I may choose to stay.” “Ce’tainly, but if y’u decide that way y’u better step out on the porch and talk it over with us where there ain’t ladies present.” “Isn’t this a costume dance? What’s the matter with my guns? I’m an outlaw, ain’t I?” “I don’t know whether y’u are or not, seh. If y’u say y’u are we’re ready to take your word. The guns have to be shucked if y’u stay here. They might go off accidental and scare the ladies.” The man rose blackly. “I’ll remember this. If y’u knew who y’u were getting so gay with—” “I can guess, Mr. Holloway, the kind of an outfit y’u freight with, and I expect I could put a handle to another name for you.” “By God, if y’u dare to say—” “I don’t dare, especially among so many ladies,” came McWilliams’s jaunty answer. The eyes of the two men gripped, after which Holloway swung on his heel and swaggered defiantly out of the house. Presently there came the sound of a pony’s feet galloping down the road. It had not yet died away when Texas announced that the supper intermission was over. “Pardners for a quadrille. Ladies’ choice.”