greeting to Racey but barely glanced at the girl. Women did not
interest Lanpher. He was too selfishly stingy. The stranger was more
appreciative. He gave the girl a stare of frank admiration before he
looked at Racey Dawson. The latter perceived that the stranger's eyes
were remarkably black and keen, perceived, too, that the man as he
rode past and on half turned in the saddle for a second look at the
girl.

"Who's yore friend?" asked Marie, an insolent lift to her upper lip
and a slightly puzzled look in her brown eyes as her gaze followed the
stranger and Lanpher.

"Friend?" said Racey. "Speaking personal, now, I ain't lost either of
'em."

"I know who Lanpher is," she told him, impatiently. "I meant the
other."

"I'll never tell yuh. I dunno him."

"I think I've seen him somewhere--sometime. I can't remember where or
how--I see so many men. There! I almost had it. Gone again now. Don't
it make you sick when things get away from you like that? Makes you
think yo're a-losing yore mind almost."

"He looked at you almighty strong," proffered Racey. "Maybe _he'll_
remember. Why don't you ask him?"

"Maybe I will at that," said she.