"Meanin' that you thought of that yourself?" he persisted.
"Of course."
He lifted his foot from the rock and stood looking gravely at her. "In most of the books I have read there's always a villain. I reckon you're goin' to have one?"
"There will be a villain," she returned.
His eyes flashed queerly. "Would you mind tellin' me who you have picked out for your villain?" he continued.
"I don't mind," she said. "It is Leviatt."
He suddenly grinned broadly and held out his right hand to her. "Shake, ma'am," he said. "I reckon if I was writin' a book Leviatt would be the villain."
She rose from the rock and took his outstretched hand, her eyes drooping as they met his. He felt her hand tremble a little, and he looked at it, marveling. She glanced up, saw him looking at her hand, swiftly withdrew it, and turned from him, looking down into the flat at the base of the hill. She started, uttering the sharp command:
"Look!"
Perhaps a hundred yards distant, sitting on his pony in a lounging attitude, was a horseman. While they looked the horseman removed his broad brimmed hat, bowed mockingly, and urged his pony out into the flat. It was Leviatt.