“I was looking for your daughter, sir.  That’s what I was doing.”

Jim Weston’s eyes grew suddenly big with amazement at this candid confession.  Had the prisoner made any other reply he would have known at once what to say.  But to see him standing so calmly there, looking him straight in the eyes, disconcerted him for a minute.

“Looking for my daughter, were you?” he at length found voice to ask.

“That’s just it.  But she found me instead.”

“Are you not afraid to make such a confession, young man?”

“Afraid!  Of what?”

“Of what might happen to you.”

Reynolds shrugged his shoulders, and smiled.

“Why should I be afraid?  I have done nothing wrong.  You are the one, sir, to blame.”

“I!” Weston exclaimed in astonishment.

“Yes, you, for possessing such a captivating daughter.  Why, she won my heart the first time I saw her.  She is the most charming girl I ever met, and it was love at first sight with me.”

“Look here,” and Weston shifted uneasily in his chair.  “Are you in earnest, or are you making fun of me?  Do you realise what you are saying?  Have you the least idea what my daughter means to me?  Why, she is more to me than life, and all my interests are bound up in her.”

“I can well understand it, sir.  And let me tell you that you are not the only one.  She is also to me more than life, and all my interests as well as yours are bound up in her.”

“You certainly have a great deal of impudence to speak in such a manner about my daughter,” Weston retorted.  “You surely must have heard what a risk it would be to venture into Glen West.  Others have come here in the past, and I suppose you have some idea how they fared.”

“I am not worried about what happened to them, sir.  From what I know, I believe they deserved all that came to them.  But my case is different.  I love your daughter, and merely came to see her.  If she does not return my love, that is all there is about it.  I shall go away and trouble her no more.”

“And so you were willing to run such a risk with the vague uncertainty of winning my daughter?  Did you stop to count the cost?”

“I did.  But it has been said by one, who is considered an authority, that

  “’He is not worthy of the honey-comb
  ‘That shuns the hive because the bees have stings.’”

“Who said that?” Weston asked.

“No less a person than Master Shakespeare himself.  He is a safe guide to all young lovers.”

“I like those words,” and Weston glanced toward his books.  “I have read much in Shakespeare, but cannot remember that saying.  I admire your spirit, too, and it is a great pity that you have not used it in some other cause.  Were you alone in this fool-chase of yours?”

“Not at all.  For a while I had the company of a fine old man, Frontier Samson by name.  No doubt you have heard of him.”