"Why, if you were the man who had done that shooting! It would follow out the idea of my plot perfectly. For in my story the hero is hired to shoot a supposed rustler, and of course he would have to be a good shot. And since Ben has told me the story of the shooting match I have decided that the hero in my story shall be tested in that manner before being employed to shoot the rustler. Then he comes to the supposed rustler's cabin and meets the heroine, in much the same manner that you came. Now if it should turn out that you were the man who did the shooting in Dry Bottom my story up to this point would be very nearly real. And that would be fine!"
She had allowed a little enthusiasm to creep into her voice, and he looked up at her quickly, a queer expression in his eyes.
"You goin' to have your 'two-gun' man bit by a rattler?" he questioned.
"Well, I don't know about that. It would make very little difference. But I should be delighted to find that you were the man who did the shooting over at Dry Bottom. Say that you are!"
Even now he could not tell whether there was subtlety in her voice The old doubt rose again in his mind. Was she really serious in saying that she intended putting all this in her story, or was this a ruse, concealing an ulterior purpose? Suppose she and her brother suspected him of being the man who had participated in the shooting match in Dry Bottom? Suppose the brother, or she, had invented this tale about the book to draw him out? He was moved to an inward humor, amused to think that either of them should imagine him shallow enough to be caught thus.
But what if they did catch him? Would they gain by it? They could
gain nothing, but the knowledge would serve to put them on their guard.
But if she did suspect him, what use was there in evasion or denial?
He smiled whimsically.
"I reckon your story is goin' to be real up to this point," he returned. "A while back I did shoot at a can in Dry Bottom."
She gave an exclamation of delight. "Now, isn't that marvelous? No one shall be able to say that my beginning will be strictly fiction." She leaned closer to him, her eyes alight with eagerness. "Now please don't say that you are the man who shot the can five times," she pleaded. "I shouldn't want my hero to be beaten at anything he undertook. But I know that you were not beaten. Were you?"
He smiled gravely. "I reckon I wasn't beat," he returned.
She sat back and surveyed him with satisfaction.