what else he is. Really, he seems to be the bogey man of Gimlet
Butte."

There was another instant silence, and again it was Soapy that
lifted it. "I expaict you'll like Wyoming, Miss Messiter;
leastways I hope you will. There's a right smart of country
here." His gaze went out of the open door to the vast sea of
space that swam in the fine sunset light. "Yes, most folks that
ain't plumb spoilt with city ways likes it."

"Sure she'll like it. Y'u want to get a good, easy-riding hawss,
Miss Messiter," advised Slim.

"And a rifle," added Texas, promptly.

It occurred to her that they were all working together to drift
the conversation back to a safe topic. She followed the lead
given her, but she made up her mind to know what it was about her
neighbor, Mr. Bannister, the sheep herder, that needed to be
handled with such wariness and circumspection of speech.

Her chance came half an hour later, when she stood talking to the
landlady on the hotel porch in the mellow twilight that seemed to
rest on the land like a moonlit aura. For the moment they were
alone.

"What is it about this man Bannister that makes men afraid to
speak of him?" she demanded, with swift impulse.

Her landlady's startled eyes went alertly round to see that they