I don't know where to find the food. Perhaps you will have something to drink?'
He hesitated, and did not reply; but she could see the admiration for her growing in his eyes.
'You're not afraid?' she queried. 'I won't poison you, I promise. I'll drink with you to show you it is all right.'
'You sure are a surprise package of all right,' he declared, for the first time lowering the weapon and letting it hang at his side. 'No one don't need to tell me ever again that women-folks in cities is afraid. You ain't much— just a little soft pretty thing. But you've sure got the spunk. And you're trustful on top of it. There ain't many women, or men either, who'd treat a man with a gun the way you're treating me.'
She smiled her pleasure in the compliment, and her face, was very earnest as she said:
'That is because I like your appearance. You are too decent-looking a man to be a robber. You oughtn't to do such things. If you are in bad luck you should go to work. Come, put away that nasty revolver and let us talk it over. The thing for you to do is to work.'
'Not in this burg,' he commented bitterly. 'I've walked two inches off the bottom of my legs trying to find a job. Honest, I was a fine large man once… before I started looking for a job.'
The merry laughter with which she greeted his sally obviously pleased him, and she was quick to note and take advantage of it. She moved directly away from the door and toward the sideboard.
'Come, you must tell me all about it while I get that drink for you. What will it be? Whisky?'
'Yes, ma'am,' he said, as he followed her, though he still carried the big revolver at his side, and though he glanced reluctantly at the unguarded open door.
She filled a glass for him at the sideboard.
'I promised to drink with you,' she said hesitatingly. 'But I don't like whisky. I… I prefer sherry.'
She lifted the sherry bottle tentatively for his consent.
'Sure,' he answered, with a nod. 'Whisky's a man's drink. I never like to see women at it. Wine's more their stuff.'
She raised her glass to his, her eyes meltingly sympathetic.
'Here's to finding you a good position—'
But she broke off at sight of the expression of surprised disgust on his face. The glass, barely touched, was removed from his wry lips.
'What is the matter!' she asked anxiously. 'Don't you like it? Have I made a mistake?'
'It's sure funny whisky. Tastes like it got burned and smoked in the making.'
'Oh! How silly of me! I gave you Scotch. Of course you are accustomed to rye. Let me change it.'
She was almost solicitiously maternal, as she replaced the glass with another and sought and found the proper bottle.
'Better?' she asked.
'Yes, ma'am. No smoke in it. It's sure the real good stuff. I ain't had a drink in a week. Kind of slick, that; oily, you know; not made in a chemical factory.'
'You are a drinking man?' It was half a question, half a challenge.
'No, ma'am, not to speak of. I HAVE rared up and ripsnorted at spells, but most unfrequent. But there is times when a good stiff jolt lands on the right spot kerchunk, and this is sure one of them. And now, thanking you for your kindness, ma'am, I'll just be a pulling along.'
But Mrs. Setliffe did not want to lose her burglar. She was too poised a woman to possess much romance, but there was a thrill about the present situation that delighted her. Besides, she knew there was no danger. The man, despite his jaw and the steady brown eyes, was eminently tractable. Also, farther back in her consciousness glimmered the thought of an audience of admiring friends. It was too bad not to have that audience.
'You haven't explained how burglary, in your case, is merely collecting what is your own,' she said. 'Come, sit down, and tell me about it here at the table.'
She maneuvered for her own seat, and placed him across the corner from her. His alertness had not deserted him, as she noted, and his eyes roved sharply about, returning always with smoldering admiration to hers, but never resting long. And she noted likewise that while she spoke he was intent on listening for other sounds than those of her voice. Nor had he relinquished the revolver, which lay at the corner of the table between them, the butt close to his right hand.
But he was in a new habitat which he did not know. This man from the West, cunning in woodcraft and plainscraft, with eyes and ears open, tense and suspicious, did not know that under the table, close to her foot, was the push button of an electric bell. He had never heard of such a contrivance, and his keenness and wariness went for naught.
'It's like this, Miss,' he began, in response to her urging. 'Old Setliffe done me up in a little deal once. It was raw, but it worked. Anything will work full and legal when it's got few hundred million behind it. I'm not squealin', and I ain't taking a slam at your pa. He don't know me from Adam, and I reckon he don't know he done me outa anything. He's too big, thinking and dealing in millions, to ever hear of a small potato like me. He's an operator. He's got all kinds of experts thinking and planning and working for him, some of them, I hear, getting more cash salary than the President of the United States . I'm only one of thousands that have been done up by your pa, that's all.
'You see, ma'am, I had a little hole in the ground—a dinky, hydraulic, one-horse outfit of a mine. And when the Setliffe crowd shook down Idaho , and reorganized the smelter trust, and roped in the rest of the landscape, and put through the big hydraulic scheme at Twin Pines, why I sure got squeezed. I never had a run for my money. I was scratched off the card before the first heat. And so, to-night, being broke and my friend needing me bad, I just dropped around to make a raise outa your pa. Seeing as I needed it, it kinda was coming to me.'
'Granting all that you say is so,' she said, 'nevertheless it does not make house-breaking any the less house-breaking. You couldn't make such a defense in a court of law.'
'I know that,' he confessed meekly. 'What's right ain't always legal. And that's why I am so uncomfortable a-settin' here and talking with you. Not that I ain't enjoying your company—I sure do enjoy it—but I just can't afford to be caught. I know what they'd do to me in this here city. There was a young fellow that got fifty years only last week for holding a man up on the street for two dollars and eighty-five cents. I read about it in the paper. When times is hard and they ain't no work, men get desperate. And then the other men who've got something to be robbed of get desperate, too, and they just sure soak it to the other fellows. If I got caught, I reckon I wouldn't get a mite less than ten years. That's why I'm hankering to be on my way.'
'No; wait.' She lifted a detaining hand, at the same time removing her foot from the bell, which she had been pressing intermittently. 'You haven't told me your name yet.'
He hesitated.
'Call me Dave.'
'Then… Dave,' she laughed with pretty confusion. 'Something must be done for you. You are a young man, and you are just at the beginning of a bad start. If you begin by attempting to collect what you think is coming to you, later on you will be collecting what you are perfectly sure isn't coming to you. And you know what the end will be. Instead of this, we must find something honorable for you to do.'
'I need the money, and I need it now,' he replied doggedly. 'It's not for myself, but for that friend I told you about. He's in a peck of trouble, and he's got to get his lift now or not at all.'
'I can find you a position,' she said quickly. 'And—yes, the very thing!—I'll lend you the money you want to send to your friend. This you can pay back out of your salary.'
'About three hundred would do,' he said slowly. 'Three hundred would pull him through. I'd work my fingers off for a year for that, and my keep, and a few cents to buy Bull Durham with.'
'Ah! You smoke! I never thought of it.'
Her hand went out over the revolver toward his hand, as she pointed to the tell-tale yellow stain on his fingers. At the same time her eyes measured the nearness of her own hand and of his to the weapon. She ached to grip it in one swift movement. She was sure she could do it, and yet she was not sure; and so it was that she refrained as she withdrew her hand.
'Won't you smoke?' she invited.
'I'm 'most dying to.'
'Then do so. I don't mind. I really like it—cigarettes, I mean.'
With his left band he dipped into his side pocket, brought out a loose wheat-straw paper and shifted it to his
