“I possess a passing acquaintance,” he answered, uncertain yet how much to tell her, but tempted to reveal all in test of her real character. “Few do not who live along the Kansas border.”
“Do you mean he is a notoriously bad character?”
“I have never heard of his being held up as a model to the young, Miss Hope,” he returned more soberly, convinced that she truly possessed no real knowledge regarding the man, and was not merely pretending innocence. “I had never heard him called Hawley before, and, therefore, failed to recognize him under that respectable name. But I knew his voice the moment he entered the cabin, and realized that some devilment was afoot. Every town along this frontier has his record, and I've met him maybe a dozen times in the past three years. He is known as 'Black Bart'; is a gambler by profession, a desperado by reputation, and a cur by nature. Just now I suspect him of being even deeper in the mire than this.”
He could tell by the quick clasping of her hands on the pommel of the saddle the effect of his words, but waited until the silence compelled her to speak.
“Oh, I didn't know! You do not believe that I ever suspected such a thing? That I ever met him there understanding who he was?”
“No, I do not,” he answered. “What I overheard between you convinced me you were the victim of deceit. But your going to that place alone was a most reckless act.”
She lifted her hand to her eyes, her head drooping forward.
“Wasn't it what he told me—the out-station of a ranch?”
“No; I have ridden this country for years, and there is no ranch pasturing cattle along the Salt Fork. Miss Hope, I want you to comprehend what it is you have escaped from; what you are now fleeing from. Within the last two years an apparently organized body of outlaws have been operating throughout this entire region. Oftentimes disguised as Indians, they have terrorized the Santa Fé trail for two hundred miles, killing travellers in small parties, and driving off stock. There are few ranches as far west as this, but these have all suffered from raids. These fellows have done more to precipitate the present Indian war than any act of the savages. They have endeavored to make the authorities believe that Indians were guilty of their deeds of murder and robbery. Both troops and volunteers have tried to hold the gang up, but they scatter and disappear, as though swallowed by the desert. I have been out twice, hard on their trail, only to come back baffled. Now, I think accident has given me the clue.”
She straightened up; glancing questioningly at him through the darkness.