Steele had about finished pulling on a clean shirt, exercising care not
to disarrange the bandages; and he stopped short to turn squarely and
look at me with hungry eyes.

"Russ, did she--show sympathy?"

"She was all broken up about it. Thought you were going to die."

"Did she send you?"

"Sure. And she said hurry," I replied.

I was not a little gleeful over the apparent possibility of Steele being
in the same boat with me.

"Do you think she would have cared if--if I had been shot up bad?"

The great giant of a Ranger asked this like a boy, hesitatingly, with
color in his face.

"Care! Vaughn, you're as thickheaded as you say I'm locoed. Diane
Sampson has fallen in love with you! That's all. Love at first sight!
She doesn't realize it. But I know."

There he stood as if another bullet had struck him, this time straight
through the heart. Perhaps one had--and I repented a little of my
overconfident declaration.

Still, I would not go back on it. I believed it.