Jack frowned over her bowed head even while he softly stroked it. "And if
he had--do you think I would ever have let you go to him? A cattle thief,
Dot! An outlaw!"

She clung to him trembling. "He saved my life--at the risk of his own,"
she whispered, almost inarticulately.

"Oh, I know--I know. He was that sort--brave enough, but a hopeless
rotter." Jack's voice held a curious mixture of tenderness and contempt.
"Women always fall in love with that sort of fellow," he said. "Heaven
knows why. But you'd no right to lose your heart to him, little 'un. You
knew--you always knew--he wasn't the man for you."

She clung to him in silence for a space, then lifted her face. "All
right, Jack," she said.

He looked at her closely for a moment. "Come! It's only silly sentiment,"
he urged. "You can't feel bad about it after all this time. Why, child,
it's five years!"

She laughed rather shakily. "I am a big fool, aren't I, Jack?
Yet--somehow--do you know--I thought he meant to come back."

"Not he!" declared Jack. "Catch Buckskin Bill putting his head back into
the noose when once he had got away! He's not quite so simple as that, my
dear. He probably cleared out of Australia for good as soon as he got the
chance. And a good thing, too!" he added, with emphasis. "He'd done
mischief enough."