MOTOR MATT'S TRIUMPH.
Edith Hawley was a stunningly pretty girl. There was little of her father's looks about her, however, and it was quite clear that she got most of her character from her mother's side of the house. She was a little pale, but otherwise showed no bad effects of the ordeal through which she had passed earlier in the day.
All those on the porch got up as the two callers drew near the steps—that is, all except Welcome Perkins. The old ex-buccaneer of the plains just sat where he was and glared.
"Excuse me for buttin' in here," said Hawley, "but my daughter's got a little business with King." He turned to the girl. "Fire away, Edie," he added.
"Which is Mr. King?" queried the girl, in a low voice.
Matt stepped away from the others and came down the steps.
"I saw you when you stopped the horse," Edith Hawley went on, fixing her hazel eyes on Matt's face, "but I couldn't remember much, then. I want to thank you. Father brought me here so that I could. I want you to understand how grateful I am."
She put out her hand timidly and Matt took it cordially.
"That's all right, Miss Hawley," said he, flushing. "What I did for you I would have done for anybody caught in the same way."
"I believe that," she returned significantly. "Even if you had known who I was it wouldn't have made any difference."