which struck Kent as being extremely humorous. He grinned understandingly
and Manley flushed--also understandingly. Valeria hastily released Manley's
hand and looked very prim and a bit haughty, as she regarded the intruder
from the red plush chair, pulled close to the couch.

"Mr. Fleetwood's head is very bad yet," she informed Kent coldly. "I really
do not think he ought to see--anybody."

Kent tapped his hat gently against his leg and faced her unflinchingly,
quite unconscious of the fact that she regarded him as a dissolute, drunken
cowboy with whom Manley ought not to associate.

"That's too bad." His eyes failed to drop guiltily before hers, but
continued to regard her calmly. "I'm only going to stay a minute. I came to
tell you that there's a scheme to raise--to 'shivaree' you two, tonight. I
thought you might want to pull out, along about dark."

Manley looked up at him inquiringly with the eye which was not covered by
the lace-edged handkerchief. Valeria seemed startled, just at first. Then
she gave Kent a little shock of surprise.

"I have read about such things. A _charivari_, even out here in this
uncivilized section of the country, can hardly be dangerous. I really do
not think we care to run away, thank you." Her lip curled unmistakably.
"Mr. Fleetwood is suffering from a sick headache. He needs rest--not a
cowardly night ride."

Naturally Kent admired the spirit she showed, in spite of that eloquent
lip, the scorn of which seemed aimed directly at him. But he still faced
her steadily.