Keith answered. "But I'll thank you for my own saddle."

Beatrice, whose hands were up beside her ears, and not an inch higher, changed from amazed curiosity to concern. "Oh, you mustn't take Redcloud away from Mr. Cameron!" she protested. "You don't know--he's so fond of that horse! You may take mine; he's a good horse--he's a perfectly splendid horse, but I--I'm not so attached to him."

The fellow stopped and looked at her--not, however, forgetting Keith, who was growing restive. Beatrice's cheeks were very pink, and her eyes were bright and big and earnest. He could not look into them without letting some of the sternness drop out of his own.

"I wish you'd please take Rex--I'd rather trade than not," she coaxed.

When Beatrice coaxed, mere man must yield or run. The fellow was but human, and he was not in a position to run, so he grinned and wavered.

"It's fair to say you'll get done," he remarked, his eyes upon the odd little dimple at the corner of her mouth, as if he had never seen anything quite so fetching.

"Your horse won't cr--buck, will he?" she ventured doubtfully. This was her first horse trade, and it behooved her to be cautious, even at the point of a rifle.

"Well, no," said the man laconically; "he won't. He's dead."

"Oh!" Beatrice gasped and blushed. She might have known, she thought, that the fellow would not take all this trouble if his horse was in a condition to buck. Then: "My elbows hurt. I--I think I should like to sit down."

"Sure," said the man politely. "Make yourself comfortable. I ain't used t' dealin' with ladies. But you got t' set still, yuh know, and not try any tricks. I can put up a mighty swift gun play when I need to--and your bein' a lady wouldn't cut no ice in a case uh that kind."

"Thank you." Beatrice sat down upon the nearest rock, folded her hands meekly and looked from him to Keith, who seethed to claim a good deal of the man's attention. She observed that, at a long breath from Keith, his captor was instantly alert.

"Maybe your elbows ache, too," he remarked dryly. "They'll git over it, though; I've knowed a man t' grab at the clouds upwards of an hour, an'

no harm done."

"That's encouraging, I'm sure." Keith shifted to the other foot.

"How's that sorrel?" demanded the man. "Can he go?"

Keith hesitated a second.

"Indeed he can go!" put in Beatrice eagerly. "He's every bit as good as Redcloud."

"Is that sorrel yours?" The man's eyes shifted briefly to her face.

"No-o." Beatrice, thinking how she had meant to own him, blushed.

"That accounts for it." He laughed unpleasantly. "I wondered why you was so dead anxious t' have me take him."

The eyes of Beatrice snapped sparks at him, but her manner was demure, not to say meek. "He belongs to my brother," she explained, "and my brother has dozens of good saddle-horses. Mr. Cameron's horse is a pet.

It's different when a horse follows you all over the place and fairly talks to you. He'll shake hands, and--"

"Uh-huh, I see the point, I guess. What d'yuh say, kid?"

Keith might seem boyish, but he did not enjoy being addressed as "kid."

He was twenty-eight years old, whether he looked it or not.

"I say this: If you take my horse, I'll kill you. I'll have twenty-five cow-punchers camping on your trail before sundown. If you take this girl's horse, I'll do the same."

The man shut his lips in a thin line.

"No, he won't!" cried Beatrice, leaning forward. "Don't mind a thing he says! You can't expect a man to keep his temper with his hands up in the air like that. You take Rex, and I'll promise for Mr. Cameron."

"Trix--Miss Lansell!"--sternly.

"I promise you he won't do a thing," she went on firmly. "He--he isn't half as fierce, really, as--as he looks."

Keith's face got red.

The man laughed a little. Evidently the situation amused him, whether the others could see the humor of it or not. "So I'm to have your cayuse, eh?"

Keith saw two big tears tipping over her lower lids, and gritted his teeth.

"Well, it ain't often I git a chance t' please a lady," the fellow decided. "I guess Rex'll do, all right. Go over and change saddles, youngster--and don't git gay. I've got the drop, and yuh notice I'm keeping it."

"Are you going to take his saddle?" Beatrice stood up and clenched her hands, looking very much as if she would like to pull his hair. Keith in trouble appealed to her strangely.

"Sure thing. It's a peach, from the look of it. Mine's over the hill a piece. Step along there, kid! I want t' be movin'."

"You'll need to go some!" flared Keith, over his shoulder.

"I expect t' go some," retorted the man. "A fellow with three sheriff's posses campin' on his trail ain't apt t' loiter none."

"Oh!" Beatrice sat down and stared. "Then you must be--"

"Yep," the fellow laughed recklessly. "You ca, tell your maw yuh met up with Kelly, the darin' train-robber. I wouldn't be s'prised if she close herded yuh fer a spell till her scare wears off. Bu I've hung around these parts long enough. I fooled them sheriffs a-plenty, stayin' here.

Gee! you'r' swift--I don't think!" This last sentence was directed at Keith, who was putting a snail to shame, and making it appear he was in a hurry.

"Git a move on!" commanded Kelly, threatening with his eyes.

Keith wisely made no reply--nor did he show any symptoms of haste, despite the menacing tone Slowly he pulled his saddle off Redcloud, and carefully he placed it upon the ground. When a fellow lives in his saddle, almost, he comes to think a great deal of it, and he is reluctant under any circ.u.mstances, to surrender it to another; to have a man deliberately confiscate it with the authority which lies in a lump of lead the size of a child thumb is not pleasant.

Through Keith's brain flashed a dozen impracticable plans, and one that offered a slender--very slender--chance of success. If he could get a little closer! He moved over beside Rex an unbuckling the cinch of Beatrice's saddle, pulled it sullenly off.

"Now, put your saddle on that there Rex horse, and cinch it tight!"

Keith picked up the saddle--his saddle, and threw it across Rex's back, raging inwardly at his helplessness. To lose his saddle worse, to let Beatrice lose her horse. Lord! a pretty figure he must cut in her eyes!

"Dry weather we're havin'," Kelly remarked politely to Beatrice; without, however, looking in her direction. "Prairie fires are gittin'

t' be the regular thing, I notice."

Beatrice studied his face, and found no ulterior purpose for the words.

"Yes," she agreed, as pleasantly as she could, in view of the disquieting circ.u.mstances. "I helped fight a prairie-fire last week over this way. We were out all night."

"Prairie-fires is mean things t' handle, oncet they git started. I always hate t' see 'em git hold of the gra.s.s. What fire was that you mention?"

Beatrice glanced toward Keith, and was thankful his back was turned to her. But a quick suspicion had come to her, and she went steadily on with the subject.

"It was the Pine Ridge country. It started very mysteriously."