er forward than maidenly?"

"I am thinking that a good warm rain will help to clear the trails."

"You wish that I would go away?"

"Since you ask it . . . yes."

"That is one reason why I am staying here," she laughed at him. "By
the way, Mr. Newly-made Croesus, does this mountain belong to you, too?
Together with the rest of the universe?"

He knocked out the ashes of his pipe, refilled the bowl, stuffing the
black Settlement tobacco down with a calloused, soil-grimed forefinger.
And that was her answer. She saw a little glint of anger in his eyes
even while she could not fully understand its cause. A maid of moods,
her mood to-day had been merely to pique him, to tease a little and the
hint of anger told her that she had succeeded. But she was not
entirely satisfied. With truly feminine wisdom she guessed that
something of which she was not aware lay under the emotion which had
for a second lifted its head to the surface. She could not know that
she awoke memories of another world which he had turned his back upon
and did not care to be reminded of; she did not know that the very way
she had caught her hair up, the way her clothes fitted her, brought
back like an unpleasant fragrance in his nostrils memories of that
other world when he had been a "gentleman."

"Your wound is healing nicely?" she offered. And, knowing
instinctively that again his answer would be silence, she went on, "It
was very picturesque, your little fight the other night. The woman who
did the shooting, I wondered whether she really loved Kootanie George
most . . . or you?"

"Look here, Miss Ygerne . . ."

"Ygerne Bellaire," she said with an affected demureness which dimpled
at him. "So you may say: 'Miss Bellaire.'"

"I say what I damned please!" he snapped hotly, and through the crisp
words she heard the click of his teeth against his pipe stem. "If the
flattery is not too much for a modest maiden to stand you may let me
assure you that the one thing about you which I like is your name,
Ygerne. Speaking of fairy tales, it sounds like the name of the
Princess before the witches changed her into an adventuress, and sent
her to pack with wolves. When it becomes necessary for me to call you
anything whatever I'll call you Ygerne."

It was enough to drive her in head-erect, defiant, orderly retreat down
the mountainside. But she seemed not to have heard anything after the
first curt sentence.

"So you do 'what you damned p