But from what I did hear I gathered that Bill, at the risk of his life, had pulled The Duke from under the hoofs of a mad steer, and that little Gwen had, in the coolest possible manner, "sailed in on her bronco" and, by putting two bullets into the steer's head, had saved them both from great danger, perhaps from death, for the rest of the cattle were crowding near.

Of course Bill could never be persuaded to speak of the incident.

A true western man will never hesitate to tell you what he can do, but of what he has done he does not readily speak.
The only other item that Hi contributed to the sketch of Gwen was that her temper could blaze if the occasion demanded.
"'Member young Hill, Bill ?" Bill "'membered." "Didn't she cut into him sudden?
Sarved him right, too." "What did she do ?" "Cut him across the face with her quirt in good style." "What for ?" "Knockin' about her Indian Joe." Joe was, as I came to learn, Ponka's son and Gwen's most devoted slave.
"Oh, she ain't no refrigerator." "Yes," assented Bill.

"She's a leetle swift." Then, as if fearing he had been apologizing for her, he added, with the air of one settling the question: "But she's good stock! She suits me!" The Duke helped me to another side of her character.
"She is a remarkable child," he said, one day.

"Wild and shy as a coyote, but fearless, quite; and with a heart full of passions.
Meredith, the Old Timer, you know, has kept her up there among the hills.