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 soft charm of her voice, that told him she was not of common stock.

Blood may wander far, and lodge like blown seed in strange places, but it will set its mark as unfailingly in the wilderness as in the palace. Blood had set its mark in this girl's face, in the true modeling of her body, slender and strong. Somewhere in the race of McCoys there had been a hero, near or far.

Texas thought her shy when Mrs. Duncan introduced them, yet there was something in her eyes which seemed to be for him alone, a struggling expression, he felt it to be, for what convention could not allow from lips. It was gratitude, with something softer which eluded him like a swift bird, and tingled him to the toes. Texas put his arm round the neck of the little cow pony that had stood him in such friendly service the day before, and stroked its nose.

"I'm under great obligations to you for tendin' this horse to me yesterday, Miss McCoy. I didn't have any chance to thank you then, for I didn't know till after he carried me to victory whose horse he was—Uncle Boley didn't tell me. I want to thank you now, and pay inter-est on it."

"If you ever owed me even thanks, it is paid, Mr. Hartwell," she told him with great seriousness.