“When you want it,” she smiled.  “Do you know, Deal,” she added seriously, blushing as she looked at him, “that our romance has been so much different from other romances that I’ve heard about.  It has seemed so—­er—­matter of fact.”

He grinned.  “All romances—­real romances—­are a heap matter of fact.  Love is the most matter-of-fact thing in the world.  When a guy meets a girl that he takes a shine to—­an’ the girl takes a shine to him—­there ain’t anything goin’ to keep them from makin’ a go of it.”

He reddened a little.

“That’s what I thought when I saw you.  Even when the Drifter was tellin’ me about you, I was sure of you.”

“I think you have shown it in your actions,” she laughed.

“But how about you?” he suggested; “did you have any thoughts on the subject?”

“I—­I think that even while I thought you were my brother, I realized that my feeling for you was strange and unusual; though I laid it to the fact that I had never had a brother, and therefore could not be expected to know just how a sister should feel toward one.  But it has all been unusual, hasn’t it?”

“If you mean me comin’ here like I did, an’ masqueradin’, an’ lettin’ you kiss me, an’ fuss over me—­why, mebbe that would be considered unusual.  But love ain’t unusual; an’ a man fightin’ for the woman he loves ain’t unusual.”

While he had been talking a change had come over him.  His voice had lost its note of gentle raillery, his lips had straightened into hard lines, his eyes were glowing with the light she had seen in them more than once—­the cold glitter of hostility.

Startled, she took him by the shoulders and shook him.

“Why, what on earth has come over you, Deal?”

He grinned mirthlessly, got up, took a hitch in his cartridge belt, and drew a full breath.

“The fightin’ ain’t over yet,” he said.  “There’s a bunch of guys comin’ toward the Double A. Dale’s gang, most likely—­after the money I took from Maison.”

She was on her feet now, and looking out into the basin.  Two or three miles away, enveloped in huge dust cloud, were a number of riders.  They were coming fast, and headed directly for the Double A ranchhouse.

The girl clung to Sanderson’s arm in sudden terror until he gently released himself, and taking her by the shoulders forced her through a door and into the sitting-room.

“Hide that money in a safe place—–­where the devil himself couldn’t find it.  Don’t give it up, no matter what happens.”

He walked to a window and looked out.  Behind him he could hear Mary running here and there; and at last when the riders were within half a mile of the house, she came and stood behind Sanderson, panting, resting her hands on his shoulders to peer over them at the coming riders.

Sanderson turned and smiled at her.  “We’ll go out on the porch, now, an’ wait for them.”