speaking in general. But I'll tell you more about the old man."

"Thank you," said Terry, "but--"

"And when you're with us--"

"You see," said Terry firmly, "I plan to do the work you asked me to do--
kill what you wanted killed on the range. And when I've worked off the
money I owe you--"

Before he could complete his sentence, a door opened on the far side of
the room, and Kate Pollard entered again. She had risen from her bed in
some haste to answer the summons of her father. Her bright hair poured
across her shoulders, a heavy, greenish-blue dressing gown was drawn
about her and held close with one hand at her breast. She came slowly
toward them. And she seemed to Terry to have changed. There was less of
the masculine about her than there had been earlier in the evening. Her
walk was slow, her eyes were wide as though she had no idea what might
await her, and the light glinted white on the untanned portion of her
throat, and on her arm where the loose sleeve of the dressing gown fell
back from it.

"Kate," said her father, "I had to get you up to tell you the big news--
biggest news you ever heard of! Girl, who've I always told you was the
greatest gent that ever come into my life?"

"Jack Hollis--Black Jack," she said, without hesitation. "According to
_your_ way of thinking, Dad!"

Plainly her own conclusions might be very different.