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His smile darkened. "I am your prisoner," he said, with a sudden splendid stateliness, and right then I guessed who he was.

I surrender, he said, with amiable ease.

"Oh, sir," cried Estelle, whose eyes, brows, lashes and hair were all of the same luminous red-brown, and in whose cheeks the rose seemed always to burn through the olive, "how can you and your people seek to kill such men as that?"

"No," she laughed, "and if I go back with you to Wiggins--to the little white cottage, you know, opposite the blacksmith's shop,--you'll give me what you've got for me, won't you?" She dropped her head to one side and a mocking-bird chuckle rippled in her throat.

"My God! she shall not!" I cried, and whirled about and galloped back.

"Good-morning," I murmured.

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