I sensed that Miss Sampson felt this just as I did.
"Papa said you were a hounder of outlaws--a man who'd rather kill than
save!" she exclaimed.
The old stern cast returned to Steele's face. It was as if he had
suddenly remembered himself.
"My name is infamous, I am sorry to say," he replied.
"You have killed men?" she asked, her dark eyes dilating.
Had any one ever dared ask Steele that before? His face became a mask.
It told truth to me, but she could not see, and he did not answer.
"Oh, you are above that. Don't--don't kill any one here!"
"Miss Sampson, I hope I won't." His voice seemed to check her. I had
been right in my estimate of her character--young, untried, but all
pride, fire, passion. She was white then, and certainly beautiful.
Steele watched her, could scarcely have failed to see the white gleam of
her beauty, and all that evidence of a quick and noble heart.
"Pardon me, please, Mr. Steele," she said, recovering her composure. "I
am--just a little overexcited. I didn't mean to be inquisitive. Thank
you for your confidence. I've enjoyed your call, though your news did
distress me. You may rely upon me to talk to papa."
That appeared to be a dismissal, and, bowing to her and Sally, the
Ranger went out.
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