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The eyes of the two met and looked into each other's as clear and

straight as Texas sunshine. Slowly Neill's relaxed into a smile.

"No, I won't ask you to believe that. I owe you something because

you saved my life--"

"Forget it," commanded the lieutenant crisply.

"And I can't do less than tell you the whole story."

He told it, yet not the whole of it either; for there was one

detail he omitted completely. It had to do with the cause for

existence of the little black-and-blue bruise under his right eye

and the purple ridge that seamed his wrist. Nor with all his

acuteness could Stephen Fraser guess that the one swelling had

been made by a gold ring on the clenched fist of an angry girl

held tight in Larry Neill's arms, the other by the lash of a

horsewhip wielded by the same young woman.

CHAPTER III -- A DISCOVERY