Good-by."

"Mr. Ranger, wait!" called Miss Longstreth, as he went out. She
was white and wonderful. She stepped out of the door close to

him.
"I have wronged your" she said, impulsively.

"Miss Longstreth! How can you say that?" he returned.
"I believed what my father and Floyd Lawson said about you. Now

I see--I wronged you."
"You make me very glad. But, Miss Longstreth, please don't

speak of wronging me. I have been a--a gunman, I am a ranger--
and much said of me is true. My duty is hard on

others--sometimes on those who are innocent, alas! But God
knows that duty is hard, too, on me."

"I did wrong you. If you entered my home again I would think it
an honor. I--"

"Please--please don't, Miss Longstreth," interrupted Duane.
"But, sir, my conscience flays me," she went on. There was no

other sound like her voice. "Will you take my hand? Will you
forgive me?"

She gave it royally, while the other was there pressing at her
breast. Duane took the proffered hand. He did not know what

else to do.
Then it seemed to dawn upon him that there was more behind this

white, sweet, noble intensity of her than just the making
amends for a fancied or real wrong. Duane thought the man did

not live on earth who could have resisted her then.
"I honor you for your goodness to this unfortunate woman," she

said, and now her speech came swiftly. "When she was all alone
and helpless you were her friend. It was the deed of a man. But

Mrs. Laramie isn't the only unfortunate woman in the world. I,
too, am unfortunate. Ah, how I may soon need a friend! Will you

be my friend? I'm so alone. I'm terribly worried. I fear--I
fear--Oh, surely I'll need a friend soon--soon. Oh, I'm afraid

of what you'll find out sooner or later. I want to help you.
Let us save life if not honor. Must I stand alone--all alone?

Will you--will you be--" Her voice failed.
It seemed to Duane that she must have discovered what he had

begun to suspect--that her father and Lawson were not the
honest ranchers they pretended to be. Perhaps she knew more!

Her appeal to Duane shook him deeply. He wanted to help her
more than he had ever wanted anything. And with the meaning of

the tumultuous sweetness she stirred in him there came
realization of a dangerous situation.

"I must be true to my duty," he said, hoarsely.
"If you knew me you'd know I could never ask you to be false to

it."
"Well, then--I'll do anything for you."

"Oh, thank you! I'm ashamed that I believed my cousin Floyd! He
lied--he lied. I'm all in the dark, strangely distressed. My

father wants me to go back home. Floyd is trying to keep me
here. They've quarreled. Oh, I know something dreadful will

happen. I know I'll need you if--if--Will you help me?"
"Yes," replied Duane, and his look brought the blood to her

face.
CHAPTER XIX

After supper Duane stole out for his usual evening's spying.
The night was dark, without starlight, and a stiff wind rustled

the leaves. Duane bent his steps toward the Longstreth's
ranchhouse. He had so much to think about that he never knew

where the time went. This night when he reached the edge of the
shrubbery he heard Lawson's well-known footsteps and saw

Longstreth's door open, flashing a broad bar of light in the
darkness. Lawson crossed the threshold, the door closed, and

all was dark again outside. Not a ray of light escaped from the
window.

Little doubt there was that his talk with Longstreth would be
interesting to Duane. He tiptoed to the door and listened, but

could hear only a murmur of voices. Besides, that position was
too risky. He went round the corner of the house.

This side of the big adobe house was of much older construction
than the back and larger part. There was a narrow passage

between the houses, leading from the outside through to the
patio.

This passage now afforded Duane an opportunity, and he decided
to avail himself of it in spite of the very great danger.

Crawling on very stealthily, he got under the shrubbery to the
entrance of the passage. In the blackness a faint streak of

light showed the location of a crack in the wall. He had to
slip in sidewise. It was a tight squeeze, but he entered

without the slightest noise. As he progressed the passage grew
a very little wider in that direction, and that fact gave rise

to the thought that in case of a necessary and hurried exit he
would do best by working toward the patio. It seemed a good

deal of time was consumed in reaching a vantage-point. When he
did get there the crack he had marked was a foot over his head.

There was nothing to do but find toe-holes in the crumbling
walls, and by bracing knees on one side, back against the

other, hold himself up Once with his eye there he did not care
what risk he ran. Longstreth appeared disturbed; he sat

stroking his mustache; his brow was clouded. Lawson's face
seemed darker, more sullen, yet lighted by some indomitable

resolve.
"We'll settle both deals to-night," Lawson was saying. "That's

what I came for."
"But suppose I don't choose to talk here?" protested

Longstreth, impatiently. "I never before made my house a place
to--"

"We've waited long enough. This place's as good as any. You've
lost your nerve since that ranger hit the town. First now, will

you give Ray to me?"
"Floyd; you talk like a spoiled boy. Give Ray to you! Why,

she's a woman, and I'm finding out that she's got a mind of her
own. I told you I was willing for her to marry you. I tried to

persuade her. But Ray hasn't any use for you now. She liked you
at first. But now she doesn't. So what can I do?"

"You can make her marry me," replied Lawson.
"Make that girl do what she doesn't want to? It couldn't be

done even if I tried. And I don't believe I'll try. I haven't
the highest opinion of you as a prospective son-in-law, Floyd.

But if Ray loved you I would consent. We'd all go away together
before this damnedmiserable business is out. Then she'd never

know. And maybe you might be more like you used to be before
the West ruined you. But as matters stand, you fight your own

game with her. And I'll tell you now you'll lose."
"What'd you want to let her come out here for?" demanded

Lawson, hotly. "It was a dead mistake. I've lost my head over
her. I'll have her or die. Don't you think if she was my wife

I'd soon pull myself together? Since she came we've none of us
been right. And the gang has put up a holler. No, Longstreth,

we've got to settle things to-night."
"Well, we can settle what Ray's concerned in, right now,"

replied Longstreth, rising. "Come on; we'll ask her. See where
you stand."

They went out, leaving the door open. Duane dropped down to
rest himself and to wait. He would have liked to hear Miss