West's brief laugh lived in his memory for long after. It held an
indescribable sting, almost as if the man resented something. Yet the
next moment unexpectedly he held out his hand.

"A matter of opinion," he observed drily. "Good-night! Remember what I
have said to you."

"I shall never forget it," Archie said earnestly.

He wrung the extended hand hard, waited an instant, then, as West turned
from him with that slight characteristic lift of the shoulders, he moved
away and went below.

* * * * *

"I'd just like a little talk with you, Mr. West, if I may." Lightly the
audacious voice arrested him, and, as it were, against his will, West
stood still.

She was standing behind him in the morning sunshine, her hair blown all
about her face, her grey eyes wide and daring, full of an alert
friendliness that could not be ignored. She moved forward with her
light, free step and stood beside him. West was smoking as usual. His
expression was decidedly surly. Cynthia glanced at him once or twice
before she spoke.

"You mustn't mind what I'm going to ask you," she said at length gently.
"Now, Mr. West, what was it--exactly--that happened in the saloon last
night? Surely you'll tell me by myself if I promise--honest Injun--not