t Keith said to himself, and the gun he was holding
threatened, for a minute, to wing a cloud.

Beatrice laid the package in Kelly's unresisting hand, looked up into
his averted face and said simply: "Good-by, Mr. Kelly."

After that she hurried Rex up the steep ridge much faster than she
had gone down it, endangering his bones and putting herself very empty
lunged.

At the top of the ridge Keith stopped and looked down.

"Hi, Kelly!"

Kelly showed that he heard.

"Here's your gun, on this rock. You can come up and get it, if you want
to. And--say! I've got a few broke horses ranging down here somewhere.
VN brand, on left shoulder. I won't scour the hills, very bad, if I
should happen to miss a cayuse. So long!"

Kelly waved his hand for farewell.

CHAPTER 13. Keith's Masterful Wooing.

Keith faced toward home, with Redcloud following at his heels like a pet
dog. For some reason, which he did not try to analyze, he was feeling
light of heart--as though something very nice had happened to him.
It might have been the unexpected clearing up of the mystery of the
prairie-fire, though he was not dwelling particularly upon that. He
was thinking a great deal more of Beatrice's blue-brown eyes, which had
never been more baffling, so far as he knew. And his blood was still
dancing with the smile she had given him; it hardly seemed possible that
a girl could smile just like that and not mean anything.

When he reached the level, where she was waiting for him, he saw that
she had her arms around the neck of her horse, and that she was crying
dismally, heart-brokenly, with an abandon that took no thought of his
presence. Keith had never seen a girl cry like that before. He had
seen them dab at their eyes with their handkerchief, and smile the next
breath--but this was different. For a minute he didn't quite know what
to do; he could hear the blood hammering against his temples while he
stood dumbly watching her. He went hesitatingly up, and laid a gloved
hand deprecatingly upon her shoulder.

"Don't do that, Miss Lansell! The fellow isn't worth it. He's only
living the life he chose for himself, and he doesn't mind, not half
as much as you imagine. I know how you feel--I felt sorry for him
myself--but he doesn't deserve it, you know." He stopped; not being
able, just at the moment, to think of anything more to say about Kelly.
Beatrice, who had not been thinking of Kelly at all, but remorsefully of
a fellow she