cause of her rage was
some trifling misdeed of the unfortunate Joe; but when I came upon the
scene it was The Pilot who was occupying her attention. The expression
of surprise and pity on his face appeared to stir her up.

"How dare you look at me like that?" she cried.

"How very extraordinary that you can't keep hold of yourself better!" he
answered.

"I can!" she stamped, "and I shall do as I like!"

"It is a great pity," he said, with provoking calm, "and besides, it is
weak and silly." His words were unfortunate.

"Weak!" she gasped, when her breath came back to her. "Weak!"

"Yes," he said, "very weak and childish."

Then she could have cheerfully put him to a slow and cruel death. When
she had recovered a little she cried vehemently:

"I'm not weak! I'm strong! I'm stronger than you are! I'm strong
as--as--a man!"

I do not suppose she meant the insinuation; at any rate The Pilot
ignored it and went on.

"You're not strong enough to keep your temper down." And then, as she
had no reply ready, he went on, "And really, Gwen, it is not right. You
must not go on in this way."

Again his words were unfortunate.

"MUST NOT!" she cried, adding an inch to her height. "Who says so?"

"God!" was the simple, short answer.

She was greatly taken back, and gave a quick glance over her shoulder as
if to see Him, who would dare to say MUST NOT to her; but, recovering,
she answered sullenly:

"I don't care!"

"Don't care for God?" The Pilot's voice was quiet and solemn, but
something in his manner angered her, and she blazed forth again.

"I don't care for anyone, and I SHALL do as I like."

The Pilot looked at her sadly for a moment, and then said slowly:

"Some day, Gwen, you will not be able to do as you like."

I remember well the settled defiance in her tone and manner as she took
a step nearer him and answered in a voice trembling with passion:

"Listen! I have always done as I like, and I shall do as I like till I
die!" And she rushed forth from the house and down toward the canyon,
her refuge from all disturbing things, and chiefly from herself.

I could not shake off the impression her words made upon me. "Pretty
direct, that," I said to The Pilot, as we rode away. "The declaration
may be philosophically correct, but it rings uncommonly like a challenge
to the Almighty. Throws down the gauntlet, so to speak."

But The Pilot only said, "Don't! How can you?"

Within a week her challenge was a