"I'd heard you'd come into Rocky Springs," she said. "Everybody is--is excited about it."

Inspector Fyles was still smiling as he returned her glance. He was thinking, at that moment, that the pa.s.sing of time only added to Kate Seton's attractiveness. His quick eyes took in the simplicity of her costume, while he realized its comparative costliness for a village like Rocky Springs.

"I don't guess there's much to be excited about--yet," he said. "Maybe that'll come later, for--some of them. I'm going to be around for quite a while."

Kate was looking ahead down the trail. She was half-heartedly seeking an excuse for leaving him. Perhaps the man read something of her thought, for he abruptly nodded in the direction of the village.

"You're going on down?" he inquired casually.

"Yes. I've a church committee to attend. I am rather late."

"Then maybe I may walk with you?"

The man's manner was perfectly deferential, and something about it pleased his companion more than she would have admitted. Somehow she resented him and liked him at the same time. She was half afraid of him, too. But her fear was wholly sub-conscious, and would certainly have been promptly denied had she been made aware of it.

"Your horse?" she protested. "You--you are riding."

But Fyles only shook his head.

"We needn't bother about him," he declared easily. "You see, he'll just walk right on."

They moved on toward the mouth of the trail at the edge of the clearing, and Kate, watching the horse, saw it suddenly throw up its head and begin to follow in that indifferent manner so truly equine, picking at the blades of gra.s.s as it came.

"What a dear creature," she exclaimed impulsively. "Did--did you train him that way?"

Fyles smilingly shook his head.

"Taught himself," he said. "Poor Peter's a first-cla.s.s baby. He hates to be left alone. Guess if I went on walking miles he'd never be more than ten yards behind me."

They walked on. Kate for the most part seemed interested only in the horse following so close behind, while Fyles made small secret of his interest in her. But for awhile talk seemed difficult.

Finally it was Kate who was forced to take the initiative with this big, loose-limbed man of the plains. She searched her brains for an appropriate subject, and, finally, blundered into the very matter she had intended to avoid.

"I suppose there's going to be a very busy time about here, now you've come around?" she said. "I suppose the lawlessness of this place will receive a check that's liable to make some folks pretty uncomfortable?"

She smiled up at her companion with just a suspicion of irony in her dark eyes, and the man who had to rely on his wits so much in his life's work found it necessary to think hard before replying.

The result of his thought was less than he could have hoped, for he had already learned, with some misgiving, of her friendliness with Charlie Bryant. However, the opportunity seemed a suitable one, so he added a gravity of tone to his reply.

"There are people in this valley to whom my presence will make no difference. There are others--well, others whose company is worth avoiding. Say, Miss Kate, maybe you haven't a notion of a policeman's work--and penalties. Maybe you know nothing of the meaning of crime, as we understand it. Maybe you think us just paid machines, without feelings, without sentiment, cold, ruthless creatures who are here to run down criminals, as the old-time Indians ran down the buffalo, in a wanton love of destroying life. Believe me, it isn't so. We're particularly humane, and would far rather see folks well within the law and prospering, the same as we want to prosper ourselves. We don't fancy the work of shutting up our fellow creatures from all enjoyment of the life about us, or curtailing that life for them by so much as a second. Still, if folks obstinately refuse to come within the law of their own free will, then, for the sake of all other law-abiding folk, they must be forced to do so, or be made to suffer. Yes, I am here to do certain work, and what's more, I don't quit till it's done. It may cost me nothing but a deal of work, and some regret, it may cost me my life, it may cost other lives. But the work will go on till it is finished, and though I may not see that finish, there will be others to take my place. That is the work of the police in this country. It has always been so, and, finally, we always achieve our purpose. In the end a criminal hasn't a dog's chance of escape."

The man's calmly spoken words were not without their effect. The irony in Kate's glance had merged into a gravity of expression that was not without admiration for the speaker. Furtively she took in the clean-cut profile, the square jaw, the strongly marked brows of the man under his prairie hat, then his powerful active frame. He was strikingly powerful in his suggestion of manhood.

"It seems all different when you put it that way," she said thoughtfully. "Yes, I guess you're right, we folks sort of get other ideas of the police. Maybe it's living among a people who are notoriously--well, human. You don't hear nice things about the police in this valley, and I s'pose one gets in the same way of thinking.

But----"

Kate broke off, and her dark eyes gazed half wistfully out over the valley.

"But?"

Fyles urged her. Nor did his manner suggest any of his official capacity. He was interested. He simply wanted her to go on talking.

It was pleasant to listen to her rich thrilling voice, it was more pleasant than he could have believed possible.

Kate laughed quietly.

"Maybe what I was going to say will--will hurt you," she said. "And I don't want to hurt you."

Fyles shook his head.

"We police don't consider our official feelings. They, and any damage done to them, are simply part of our work."

They had reached the main village trail. The girl deliberately halted and stood facing him.

"I was thinking it a pity you came here in--time of peace," she said quickly. "I was thinking how much better it would have been to wait until a cargo of liquor was being run, and then get the culprits red-handed. You see," she went on naively, "you've got time to look around you now, and--and listen to the gossip of the village, and form opinions which--which may put you on a false scent. Believe me," she cried, with sudden warmth, "I'd be glad to see you measure your wits against the real culprits. Maybe you'd be successful. Who can say?

Anyway, you'd get a sound idea of whom you were after, and would not be chasing a phantom, as you are likely to be now, if you listen to the talk of this place. Believe me, I hold no brief for wrongdoers.

They must take their chances. If they are discovered and captured they must pay the penalty. But I know how deceptive appearances may be in this valley, and--and it would break my heart if--a great wrong were done, however inadvertently."

The wide reaches of the valley were spread out before them. Kate was gazing away out westward, where, high up on the hillside, Charlie Bryant's house was perched like an eagle's eyrie. Even at that distance two figures could be seen standing on the veranda, and neither she nor Fyles, who was following the direction of her gaze, needed a second thought as to their ident.i.ty.

"You're thinking of Charlie Bryant," the man said after a pause.

"You're warning me--off him."

"Maybe I am."

Kate's eyes challenged the officer fearlessly.

"Why?"

The man's searching eyes were not seeking those secrets which might help his official capacity. Other feelings were stirring.

"Why? Because Charlie is a weak, sick creature, deserving all the pity and help the strong can give him. Because he is a gentle, ailing man who has only contrived to earn the contempt of most, for his weakness, and the blame of those who are strong enough to help. Because he is, for all his weaknesses, an--honest man."

Fyles gazed up at the house on the hillside again, and Kate's anxious eyes watched him.

"Is that all?" he inquired presently. Nor could there be any mistake as to the thought behind the question.

A dash of recklessness, that recklessness which her sister had deplored the absence of, now drove Kate headlong.

"No. It is not all," she cried. "For five years I have been striving to help him to escape from the demon which possesses him. Oh, and I know how hopeless it has all been. I love Charlie, Mr. Fyles. I love him as though he were my brother, or even my own son. I would do anything in the world to save him, and I tell you frankly, openly, if the police seek to fix any crime this valley is accused of upon him, I will strive, by every possible means, whether right or wrong, to defeat their ends."

The woman's face was aglow with reckless courage. Her eyes were shining with an enthusiasm which the man before her delighted in. All her defiance of him, of the law, only made her appeal the more surely.

But he was not thinking of her words. He was thinking of her beauty, her courage, while he repeated her words mechanically.

"Your brother--or even your own son?"

"Yes, yes," Kate cried. Then she caught a sharp breath, and a deep flush suffused her cheeks and brow. The significance of the man's thoughtful words and tone had come home to her. She knew he was not thinking of anything else she had said. Only of her regard for that other man.

She abruptly held out her hand and Stanley Fyles took it. Her good-bye came with a curtness that might well have inspired consternation. But the policeman replied to it without any such feeling, and pa.s.sed on with his faithful Peter trailing leisurely behind him.