"There is a whole lot of hot air about that Western chivalry talk," he retorted. "Bad men are just as bad here as anywhere, and they're particularly bad on the Shellfish. But, anyhow, you'll call on me if I can be of any use, won't you?"
"I certainly shall do so," she responded, heartily, and there was confidence and liking in her eyes as well as in the grip of her hand as she said good-by.
When in the saddle and ready to ride away he called to her, "You won't mind my coming over here again on Saturday, will you?"
"No, indeed. Only it is so far."
"Oh, the ride is nothing. I don't like to think of your being here alone."
"I'm not afraid. But we shall be glad to see you just the same."
And in appreciation of her smile he removed his hat and rode away with bared head.
The young ranger was highly exalted by this visit, and he was also greatly disturbed, for the more he thought of that warning letter and the conditions which gave rise to it, the more menacing it became. It was all of a piece with the tone and character of the Shellfish gang, for this remote valley had long borne an evil reputation, and Watson and Kitsong had been its dominating spirits for more than twenty years and deeply resented Kauffman's settlement in the cañon.
"It would be just like old Kit to take the law into his own hands," the ranger admitted to himself. "And the writing in that letter looked to me like Mrs. Abe Kitsong's."
Instead of going up to the Heart Lake sheep-camp, as he had planned to do, he turned back to his station, moved by a desire to keep as near the girl as his duties would permit. "For the next few days I'd better be within call," he decided. "They may decide to arrest her—and if they do, she'll need me."