She stopped. She was not frightened now. She knew who it was. And when she saw his arms come up, and caught the glint of metal, she called out to him: "Don't! don't! It's me!"
There was a muttered exclamation, and the arms fell. "Miss Dallas," he cried, and sprang forward.
"I—I was sure it was you," she admitted tremulously. "And you've been guarding here all the time!"
Lounsbury was panting. "Suppose I'd fired?" he said. "I had a mind to. Crimini!"
"You'd 'a' missed, likely."
"Maybe not. You see, I thought, well—that Matthews or that precious brother of his, they might get to bothering you folks. Anyway, ain't it dangerous for you to be out here late like this?"
"It is for you. You get shot at—keeping guard on us."
He thumped the swale impatiently with the butt of his gun.
"Oh, it was you," she persisted, gravely enough; "that is why I came to-night."
"Ah! You mean that I can help you, Miss Dallas. Tell me—tell me, what can I do?"