him. Then she questioned him soberly.

"You mean, kill me?"

"Sure," he answered simply, without looking around; "I would have had
to do it--just as though you were a sister of mine."

Her hands reached out and clasped his, and he glanced aside at her
face, seeing it clearly.

"I--I thought you would," she said, her voice trembling. "I--I was
going to ask you once before I was hurt, but--but I could n't, and
somehow I trusted you from the first, when you got in." She hesitated,
and then asked, "How did you know I was Molly McDonald? You never
asked."

The Sergeant's eyes smiled, turning away from her face to stare out
again across the river.

"Because I had seen your picture."

"My picture? But you told us you were from Fort Union?"

"Yes; that is my station, only I had been sent to the cantonment on the
Cimarron with despatches. Your father was in command there, and
worried half to death about you. He could not leave the post, and the
only officer remaining there with him was a disabled cavalry captain.
Every man he could trust was out on scouting service. He took a chance
on me. Maybe he liked my looks, I don't know; more probably, he judged
I would n't be a sergeant and entrusted with those despatches I 'd just