Stranger that he should want me to hear your business. Either he’s joking or wants to impress me.

“Papa tried to persuade me not to come. He tried to frighten me with tales of this—this roughness out here. He knows I’m in earnest, how I’d like to help somehow, do some little good. Pray tell me this business.”

“I wished to get your father’s cooperation in my work.”

“Your work? You mean your Ranger duty—the arresting of rough characters?”

“That, yes. But that’s only a detail. Linrock is bad internally. My job is to make it good.”

“A splendid and worthy task,” replied Miss Sampson warmly. “I wish you success. But, Mr. Steele, aren’t you exaggerating Linrock’s wickedness?”

“No,” he answered forcibly.

“Indeed! And papa refused to see you—presumably refused to cooperate with you?” she asked thoughtfully.

“I take it that way.”

“Mr. Steele, pray tell me what is the matter with Linrock and just what the work is you’re called upon to do?” she asked seriously. “I heard papa say that he was the law in Linrock. Perhaps he resents interference. I know he’ll not tolerate any opposition to his will. Please tell me. I may be able to influence him.”

I listened to Steele’s deep voice as he talked about Linrock. What he said was old to me, and I gave heed only to its effect.

Miss Sampson’s expression, which at first had been earnest and grave, turned into one of incredulous amaze. She, and Sally too, watched Steele’s face in fascinated attention.

When it came to telling what he wanted to do, the Ranger warmed to his subject; he talked beautifully, convincingly, with a certain strange, persuasive power that betrayed how he worked his way; and his fine face, losing its stern, hard lines, seemed to glow and give forth a spirit austere, yet noble, almost gentle, assuredly something vastly different from what might have been expected in the expression of a gun-fighting Ranger. I sensed that Miss Sampson felt this just as I did.

“Papa said you were a hounder of outlaws—a man who’d rather kill than save!” she exclaimed.

The old stern cast returned to Steele’s face. It was as if he had suddenly remembered himself.

“My name is infamous, I am sorry to say,” he replied.

“You have killed men?” she asked, her dark eyes dilating.

Had any one ever dared ask Steele that before? His face became a mask. It told truth to me, but she could not see, and he did not answer.

“Oh, you are above that. Don’t—don’t kill any one here!”

“Miss Sampson, I hope I won’t.” His voice seemed to check her. I had been right in my estimate of her character—young, untried, but all pride, fire, passion. She was white then, and certainly beautiful.

Steele watched her, could scarcely have failed to see the white gleam of her beauty, and all that evidence of a quick and noble heart.

“Pardon me, please, Mr. Steele,” she said, recovering her composure. “I am—just a little overexcited. I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. Thank you for your confidence. I’ve enjoyed your call, though your news did distress me.