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"Far as I can make out, that young man is going to be loaded with

suspicions of me anyhow," he laughed.

"It isn't anything to laugh at. You don't know him," she told him

gravely.

"And can't say I'm suffering to," he drawled.

She looked at him a little impatiently, as if he were a child

playing with gunpowder and unaware of its potentialities.

"Can't you understand? You're not in Texas with your friends all

around you. This is Lost Valley--and Lost Valley isn't on the

map. Men make their own law here. That is, some of them do. I

wouldn't give a snap of my fingers for your life if the

impression spread that you are a spy. It doesn't matter that I

know you're not. Others must feel it, too."

"I see. And Mr. Briscoe will be a molder of public opinion?"

"So far as he can he will. We must forestall him."

"Beat him to it, and give me a clean bill of moral health, eh?"

She frowned. "This is serious business, my friend."

"I'm taking it that way," he said smilingly.

"I shouldn't have guessed it."