CHAPTER VII.
THE OUTLAW'S LOVE.
Willie Pond was much surprised when he found that his ride only extended to a small but pretty cottage just on the outskirts of the town, where the young Texan, introducing him to Miss Neidic as his temporary hostess, left him while he took the horses to a safe place of concealment not far away.
Miss Neidic look her new visitor into the rear sitting-room, and while giving him a cordial welcome, and passing the usual salutations, scanned him with a keen and critical eye.

The impression left must have been rather favorable, for the lady seemed to feel none of the embarrassment usual when strangers held a first interview, but talked on as easily and naturally as if she had known him half a lifetime.
"How long have you been in town, Mr.Pond ?" was one of her many questions.
"Only a day.

I arrived on the express, westward bound, which passed this morning," was the answer.
"Why, that was the same train the desperado, Wild Bill came on." "Yes, he was pointed out to me by the conductor.

But why do you call him a desperado ?" "Because that is his character." "I thought none but outlaws were celled desperadoes." "There is where the mistake comes in.

Most outlaws are desperadoes, but a man _can_ be a desperado, and yet not an _outlaw._ If to be always ready to shoot for a look or a word--whether his opponent is ready or not--is not being a desperado.