began, weighing my words. "He let me in--was surprised. He had been shot
high in the shoulder, not a dangerous wound. I bandaged it for him. He
was grateful--said he had no friends."

"Poor fellow! Oh, I'm glad it--it isn't bad," said Miss Sampson.
Something glistened in her eyes.

"He looked strange, sort of forlorn. I think your words--what you said
hurt him more than the bullet. I'm sure of that, Miss Sampson."

"Oh, I saw that myself! I was furious. But I--I meant what I said."

"You wronged Steele. I happen to know. I know his record along the Rio
Grande. It's scarcely my place, Miss Sampson, to tell you what you'll
find out for yourself, sooner or later."

"What shall I find out?" she demanded.

"I've said enough."

"No. You mean my father and cousin George are misinformed or wrong about
Steele? I've feared it this last hour. It was his look. That pierced me.
Oh, I'd hate to be unjust. You say I wronged him, Russ? Then you take
sides with him against my father?"

"Yes," I replied very low.

She was keenly hurt and seemed, despite an effort, to shrink from me.

"It's only natural you should fight for your father," I went on.