“Wal—­I reckon—­I was nigh onto bein’ drunk,” he said, haltingly.  “Shore is a bad habit of mine—­Allie....  Makes me think of a lot of —­guff—­jest the same as it makes me see snakes—­an’ things....  I’ll quit drinkin’, Allie....  Never will touch liquor again—­now if you’ll jest forgive.”

He spoke gently, huskily, with tears in his voice, and he broke off completely.

“Forgive!  Larry, boy, there’s nothing to forgive—­except your not hurrying me to—­to him!”

She felt the same violent start in him.  He held her a moment longer.  Then, when he let go of her and stepped back Allie saw the cowboy as of old, cool and easy, yet somehow menacing, as he had been that day the strangers rode into Slingerland’s camp.

“Allie—­thet woman Stanton locked you in heah?” queried Larry.

“Yes.  Then she—­”

Larry’s quick gesture enjoined silence.  Stealthy steps sounded out in the hall.  They revived Allie’s fear of Durade and his men.  It struck her suddenly that Larry must be ignorant of the circumstances that had placed her there.

The cowboy unlocked the door—­peeped out.  As he turned, how clear and cold his blue eyes flashed!

“I’ll get you out of heah,” he whispered.  “Come.”

They went out.  The passage was empty.  Allie clung closely to him.  At the corner, where the halls met, he halted to listen.  Only the low hum of voices came up.

“Larry, I must tell you,” whispered Allie.  “Durade and his gang are after me.  Fresno—­Mull—­Black—­Dayss—­you know them?”

“I—­reckon,” he replied, swallowing hard.  “My Gawd! you poor little girl!  With that gang after you!  An’ Stanton!  I see all now....  She says to me, ’Larry, I’ve a new girl heah’....  Wal, Beauty Stanton, thet was a bad deal for you—­damn your soul!”

Trembling, Allie opened her lips to speak, but again the cowboy motioned her to be quiet.  He need not have done it, for he suddenly seemed terrible, wild, deadly, rendering her mute.

“Allie if I call to you, duck behind me an’ hold on to me.  I’ll take you out of heah.”

Then he put her on his left side and led her down the righthand passage toward the wide room Allie remembered.  She looked on into the dance-hall.  Larry did not hurry.  He sauntered carelessly, yet Allie felt how intense he was.  They reached the head of the stairway.  The room was full of men and girls.  The woman Stanton was there and, wheeling, she uttered a cry that startled Allie.  Was this white, glaring-eyed, drawn-faced woman the one who had gone for Neale?  Allie began to shake.  She saw and heard with startling distinctness.  The woman’s cry had turned every face toward the stairway, and the buzz of voices ceased.

Stanton ran to the stairway, started up, and halted, raising a white arm in passionate gesture.

“Where are you taking that girl?” she called, stridently.

Larry stepped down, drawing Allie with him.  “I’m takin’ her to Neale.”