'My mistake,' grinned the stranger. 'Guess I'll step out while the
stepping's good and the road open. If there's one sure thing a man
ought to be shot for, it's stampeding in on another fellow's honeymoon.
_Adios, señora_.'

'Honeymoon!' gasped Helen. 'The big fool.'

Her father wakened abruptly, sat up, grasping his big revolver in both
hands, and blinked about him; he, too, had had his dreams. In the
night-cap which he had purchased in San Juan, his wide, grave eyes and
sun-blistered face turned up inquiringly; he was worthy of a second
glance as he sat prepared to defend himself and his daughter. The
stranger had just set the toe of his boot into the stirrup; in this
posture he remained, forgetful of his intention to mount, while his
mare began to circle and he had to hop along to keep pace with her, his
eyes upon the startled occupant of the bed beyond Helen's. He had had
barely more than time to note the evident discrepancy in ages which
naturally should have started his mind down a new channel for the
explanation of the true relationship, when the revolver clutched
tightly in unaccustomed fingers went off with an unexpected roar. Dust
spouted up a yard beyond the feet of the man who held it. The horse
plunged, the stranger went up into the saddle like a flash, and the man
dropped his gun to his blanket and muttered in the natural bewilderment
of the moment:

'It--it went off by itself! The most amazing----'

The rider brought his prancing horse back and fought with his facial
muscles for gravity; the light in his eyes was utterly beyond his
control.