“But it will. If he should ride now, why—It would be the same as murder,” she gasped. “You wouldn’t make him ride now?” “Didn’t y’u hear him order his hawss, ma’am? He’s keen on this ride. Of course he don’t have to go unless he wants to.” The man turned his villainous smile on his cousin, and the latter interpreted it to mean that if he preferred, the point of attack might be shifted to the girl. He might go or he might stay. But if he stayed the mistress of the Lazy D would have to pay for his decision. “No, I’ll ride,” he said at once. Helen Messiter had missed the meaning of that Marconied message that flashed between them. She set her jaw with decision. “Well, you’ll not. It’s perfectly ridiculous. I won’t hear of such a thing.” “Y’u seem right welcome. Hadn’t y’u better stay, Ned?” murmured the outlaw, with smiling eyes that mocked. “Of course he had. He couldn’t ride a mile—not half a mile. The idea is utterly preposterous.” The sheepman got to his feet unsteadily. “I’ll do famously.” “I won’t have it. Why are you so foolish about going? He said you didn’t need to go. You can’t ride any more than a baby could chop down that pine in the yard.” “I’m a heap stronger than y’u think.” “Yes, you are!” she derided. “It’s nothing but obstinacy. Make him stay,” she appealed to the outlaw. “Am I my cousin’s keeper?” he drawled. “I can advise him to stay, but I can’t make him.” “Well, _I_ can. I’m his nurse, and I say he sha’n’t stir a foot out of this house—not a foot.” The wounded man smiled quietly, admiring the splendid energy of her. “I’m right sorry to leave y’u so unceremoniously.” “You’re not going.” She wheeled on the outlaw “I don’t understand this at all. But if you want him you can find him here when you come again. Put him on parole and leave him here. I’ll not be a party to murder by letting him go.” “Y’u think I’m going to murder him?” he smiled. “I think he cannot stand the riding. It would kill him.” “A haidstrong man is bound to have his way. He seems hell-bent on riding. All the docs say the outside of a hawss is good for the inside of a man. Mebbe it’ll be the making of him.” “I won’t have it. I’ll rouse the whole countryside against you. Why don’t you parole him till he is better?” “All right. We’ll leave it that way,” announced the man. “I’d hate to hurt your tender feelings after such a pleasant evening. Let him give his parole to come to me whenever I send for him, no matter where he may be, to quit whatever he is doing right that instant, and come on the jump. If he wants to leave it that way, we’ll call it a bargain.” Again the rapier-thrust of their eyes crossed. The sheepman was satisfied with what he saw in the face of his foe. “All right. It’s a deal,” he agreed, and sank weakly back to the couch.