Bob Hampton of Placer

Wynkoop held out his hand cordially, and the firm grasp of the other

closed over his fingers.

"I don't exactly know why I didn't kick you downstairs," the latter

commented, as though still in wonder at himself. "Never remember being

quite so considerate before, but I reckon you must have come at me in

about the right way."

If Wynkoop answered, his words were indistinguishable, but Hampton

remained standing in the open door watching the missionary go down the

narrow stairs.

"Nervy little devil," he acknowledged slowly to himself. "And maybe,

after all, that would be the best thing for the Kid."