Johnson eyed her uncomprehendingly.

“Which o’ course you don’t,” she hastened to add.  “Name your price.  It’s yours jest for the style I git from you an’ the deportment.”

“Deportment?  Me?” A half-grin formed over Johnson’s face as he asked the question; then he said:  “Well, I never heard before that my society was so desirable.  Apart from the financial aspect of this matter, I—­”

“Say,” broke in the Girl, gazing at him in helpless admiration, “ain’t that great?  Ain’t that great?  Oh, you got to let me stand treat!”

“No, really I would prefer not to take anything,” responded Johnson, putting a restraining hand on her as she was about to leap from the table.

At that moment Nick’s hurried footsteps reached their ears.  Turning, the Girl, with a swift gesture, waved him back.  There was a brief silence, then Johnson spoke: 

“Say, Girl, you’re like finding some new kind of flower.”

A slight laugh of confusion was his answer.  The next moment, however, she went on, speaking very slowly and seriously:  “Well, we’re kind o’ rough up here, but we’re reachin’ out.”

Johnson noted immediately the change in her voice.  There was no mistaking the genuineness of her emotion, nor the wistful look in her eyes.  It was plain that she yearned for someone who would teach her the ways of the outside world; and when the man looked at the Girl with the lamp-light softening her features, he felt her sincerity and was pleased by her confidence.

“Now, I take it,” continued the Girl with a vague, dreamy look on her face, “that’s what we’re all put on this earth for—­everyone of us—­is to rise ourselves up in the world—­to reach out.”

“That’s true, that’s true,” returned Johnson with gentle and perfect sympathy.  “I venture to say that there isn’t a man who hasn’t thought seriously about that.  I have.  If only one knew how to reach out for something one hardly dares even hope for.  Why, it’s like trying to catch the star shining just ahead.”

The Girl could not restrain her enthusiasm.

“That’s the cheese!  You’ve struck it!”

At this juncture Nick appeared and refused to be ordered away.  At length, the Girl inquired somewhat impatiently: 

“Well, what is it, Nick?”

“I’ve been tryin’ to say,” announced the barkeeper, whose face wore an expression of uneasiness as he pointed to the window, “that I have seen an ugly-lookin’ greaser hanging around outside.”

“A greaser!” exclaimed the Girl, uneasily.  “Let me look.”  And with that she made a movement towards the window, but was held back by Johnson’s detaining hand.  All too well did he know that the Mexican was one of his men waiting impatiently for the signal.  So, with an air of concern, for he did not intend that the Girl should run any risk, however remote, he said authoritatively: 

“Don’t go!”

“Why not?” demanded the Girl.