"Right!" he cried. Nor was he addressing any one in particular.

Hazel heard his exclamation, and the clutching fear at her heart relaxed its grip. She understood that Gordon, too, had shared her dread.

Now she shifted her regard to the victor. Her eyes were full of a deep, unspeakable feeling. Gordon was looking in another direction, so, for the moment, she had nothing to conceal.

The man's attention was upon the horses. A strange diffidence made him reluctant to follow his impulse and approach Hazel. He had no pride in his victory. Only regret for the exhibition he had made before her.

Sunset and Slosson's horse were grazing amicably together within twenty yards of the trail. The fight had disturbed them not one whit. The Lady Jane had moved off farther, and, in proud isolation, ignored everybody and everything concerned with the indecent exhibition.

Gordon secured the livery horse to a bush, and rode off on Sunset to collect the Lady Jane. When he returned the defeated man was stirring.

One glance told Gordon all he cared to know, and he passed over to where Hazel was still standing, and in silence and quite unsmilingly he held the Lady Jane for her to mount.

Hazel avoided his eyes, but not from any coldness. She feared lest he should witness that which now, with all her might, she desired to conceal. Her feelings were stirred almost beyond her control. This man had come to her rescue--he had rescued her--by that great chivalrous manhood that was his. And somehow she felt that she might have known that he would do so.

Gordon was looking at David Slosson, who was already sitting up. Once Hazel was in the saddle he moved nearer to the disfigured agent.

"If you're looking for any more," he said coldly, "you can find it.

But don't you ever come near Buffalo Point again or Mallinsbee's ranch.

If you do--I'll kill you!"

David Slosson made no reply. But his eyes followed the two figures as they rode off, full of a bitter hatred that boded ill for their futures should chance come his way.

For some time the speeding horses galloped on, their riders remaining silent. A strange awkwardness had arisen between them. There was so much to say, so much to explain. Neither of them knew how to begin, or where. So they were nearing home when finally it was Gordon whose sense of humor first came to the rescue. They had drawn their horses down to a walk to give them a breath.

Gordon turned in his saddle. His blue eyes were absurdly smiling.

"Well?" he observed interrogatively.

The childlike blandness of his expression was all Hazel needed to help her throw off the painful restraint that was fast overwhelming her.

Again he had saved her, but this time it was from tears.

"Well?" she smiled back at him through the watery signs of unshed tears.

"I guess Sunset 'll hate this trail worse than anything around Buffalo Point," Gordon said, with a great effort at ease. "He got a flogging I'll swear he never merited."

"Dear old Sunset," said the girl softly. "And--and he can go."

"Go? Why, he's an express train. Say, the Twentieth Century, Limited, isn't a circumstance to him."

Gordon's laugh sounded good in Hazel's ears, and the last sign of tears was banished. It had been touch and go. She had wanted to laugh and to scream during the fight. Afterwards she had wanted only to weep.

Now she just felt glad she was riding beside a man whom she regarded as something in the nature of a hero.

"I sort of feel I owe him an apology," Gordon went on doubtfully.

"Same as I owe you one. I--I'm afraid I made a--a disgusting exhibition of myself. I--I wish I hadn't nearly bitten off that cur's fingers. It's--awful. It--was that or lose my eyesight."

Hazel had nothing to say. A shiver passed over her, but it was caused by the thought that the man beside her might have been left blinded.

"You see, that was 'rough and tough,'" Gordon went on, feeling that he must explain. "It's not human. It's worse than the beasts of the fields. I--I'm ashamed. But I had to save my eyes. I thought I'd killed him."

"I'm glad you didn't," Hazel said in a low voice. Then she added quickly, "But not for his sake."

Gordon nodded.

"He deserved anything."

Suddenly Hazel turned a pair of shining eyes upon him.

"Oh, I wish I were a man!" she cried. "Deserved? Oh, he deserved everything; but so did I. I'll never do it again. Never, never, never! You warned me. You knew. And it was only you who saved me from the result of my folly. I--I thought I was smart enough to deal with him. I--I thought I was clever." She laughed bitterly. "I thought, because I run our ranch and can do things that few girls can that way, I could beat a man like that. Say, Mr. Van Henslaer, I'm--just what he took me for--a silly country girl. Oh, I feel so mad with myself, and if it hadn't been for you I don't know what would have happened. Oh, if I could only have fought like you. It--it was wonderful. And--I brought it all on you by my folly."

There was a strange mixture of emotion in the girl's swift flow of words. There was a bitter feeling of self-contempt, a vain and helpless regret; but in all she said, in her shining eyes and warmth of manner, there was a scarcely concealed delight in her rescuer's great manhood, courage and devotion. If Gordon beheld it, it is doubtful if he read it aright. For himself, a great joy that he had been of service in her protection pervaded him. Just now, for him, all life centered round Hazel Mallinsbee and her well-being.

"You brought nothing on," he said, his eyes smiling tenderly round at her. "He's a disease that would overtake any girl." Then he began to laugh, with the intention of dispelling all her regrets. "Say, he's just one of life's experiences, and experience is generally unpleasant.

See how much he's taught us both. You've learned that a feller who can wear a suit that sets all sense of good taste squirming most generally has a mind to match it. I've learned that no honesty of methods, whether in scrapping or anything else, is a match for the unscrupulous methods of a low-down mind. Guess we'll both pigeon-hole those facts and try not to forget 'em. But say--there's worse worrying," he added, with an absurdly happy laugh.

"Worse?"

"Only worse because it hasn't happened yet--like the other things have.

You see, the worst always lies in those things we don't know."

"You're thinking of the Buffalo Point scheme?"

"Partly."

"Partly?"

"Did he tell you anything?"

Hazel nodded.

"He said you'd--turned him out of the office."

"That all?" Gordon was chuckling.

"He said you'd told him to go to----" Hazel's eyes were smiling.

"Just so. I did," returned Gordon. "That's the trouble now. I've got to face your father. I've hit on a plan to beat this feller. I've got the help of Peter McSwain and some of the boys at Snake's. I'd a notion we'd pull the thing off, so I just took it into my own hands--and your father don't know of it. I'm worrying how he'll feel.

You see, if I fail, why, I've busted the whole contract. And now this thing. Say, what's going to happen next?" As he put his final question his smiling face looked ludicrously serene.

Hazel had entirely recovered from her recent experiences. She laughed outright. More and more this man appealed to her. His calm, reckless courage was a wonderful thing in her eyes. Their whole schemes might be jeopardized by that afternoon's work, but he had acted without thought of consequence, without thought of anybody or anything beyond the fact that he yearned to beat this man Slosson, and would spare nothing to do so. What was this wild scheme he had suddenly conceived, almost the first moment he was left in sole control?

She tried to look serious.

"Can you tell it me now?" she asked.

"I could, of course, but----"

"You'd rather wait to see father about it."