But there's just one thing I'd like to say to you first."
He got up and stood before her. It was impossible not to admire his
splendid height and breadth of chest. He could have lifted her easily
with one hand. And yet, strangely, though she felt his power he did not
make her aware of her own weakness.
She looked up at him. "Yes? What is it?"
"Just this, Miss Burton," he said, and somehow he lingered over the name
in a fashion that made it sound musical in her ears. "I'd like to strike
a bargain with you--because you've made a sort of impression on me. I'm
not meaning any impertinence. You know that?"
"Go on!" she whispered, almost inaudibly.
He went on, bending slightly towards her. "The odds are dead against
Buckskin Bill escaping, but--he may escape. If he does, will you--the
next time I come to see you--treat me--without prejudice?"
He also was almost whispering as he uttered the last words.
She drew a sharp breath and looked at him. "You--you--are going to let
him go?" she said, incredulously.
He did not answer. His eyes were drawing hers with a magnetism she could
not resist. And they thrilled her--they thrilled her!
"The odds are dead against him," he said again, after a moment. "Is it--a
bargain?"
Her heart gave a queer little jerk within her. She stood motionless for
a space. Then, with a little quivering smile, she very, very slowly gave
him her hand.
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