ence. Jeffrey
Masters is not the man to allow his wife to be insulted with impunity
by one of his cattlemen. It will be my business to see to it that he
is told--everything. You were riding that way." She pointed the way
she had come. "I s'pose toward the ranch house. Let me pass!"

She moved her horse as though to proceed. There was no sign of fear in
her. No haste. At that moment her dignity was superb. Every word she
had spoken had been calculated, and the sting she had conveyed with her
information had not been overdone. She looked for its effect, which
came with a dramatic change in the man's whole demeanor. His evil face
lost its smile, and, in a moment, he had bared his bristling head. But
even as Elvine beheld these things she understood the curious
expression which he seemed powerless to banish from his ferretty eyes.

"You're Mrs. Masters, ma'am?" the fellow cried. "Say, ma'am, I'm just
kind o' knocked all of a mush. I hadn't a notion. I truly hadn't.
Guess I took you for a leddy I kind o' remember up Orrville way. An'
the likeness is jest that o' two beans. I'm beat, ma'am, beat sore. I
wouldn't have offered you insult for a farm. I'm sorry. I'd heerd the
boss's wife was around, but I didn't figger I----" Then he replaced
his hat, and made as though to pass on. But he remained where he was.
"Y'see, I was ridin' in about last night. We lost another bunch. On'y
ten cows and their calves, but I had to make a report."

"Another raid?"

In a moment the woman caught him up. And her attitude had taken on a
calculated change.

The man observed her interest, and took prompt advantage of it.

"Yep. An' things are lookin' pretty bad. This gang's jest workin'
how, an' when, an' wher' they fancy. If the boss 'ud on'y listen to me
he'd leave no stock around the outstations. It's devilish luck, ma'am,
that's what it is--devilish."

Elvine remained lost in thought, and the man's narrow eyes never left
the profile she presented to him. When she turned to him again,
however, his whole attitude was one of bland humility.

"You can ride back to your station," she declared, with perfect
authority. "I'll convey your report. What's your name? You didn't
give it me."

"Sikkem. Sikkem Bruce. I'm out at Spruce Crossing, back ther' in the
hills. It's jest a piece. Mebbe three miles, wher' this stream makes
a joining with the Gophir Creek. Say----"

"Well?" Elvine inquired as he paused.