ntire evening; and he made up his mind to
cultivate Susie's friendship. But it was too late; he had made a mistake
not unlike Dora's. Susie had felt herself rebuffed, and, like the
Schoolmarm, Ralston had laughed at her with his eyes. It was a great
thing--a really sacred thing to Susie--this secret that she had offered
him. The telling of it to McArthur had been so delightful an experience
that she yearned to repeat it, but now she meant never to tell any one
else. Any way, McArthur was her "pardner," and it was enough that he
should know. So it came about that afterwards, when Ralston sought her
company and endeavored to learn something of the workings of her mind, he
found the same barrier of childish reserve which had balked Dora, and no
amount of tact or patience seemed able to break it down.

The young deputy sheriff's interest in Dora increased in leaps and bounds.
He experienced an odd but delightful agitation when he saw the sleepy
white pony plodding down the hill, and the sensation became one easily
defined each time that he observed Smith's horse ambling in the road
beside hers. The feeling which inspired Tubbs's disgruntled comment,
"Smith rides herd on the Schoolmarm like a cow outfit in a bad wolf
country," found an echo in Ralston's own breast. Truly, Smith guarded the
Schoolmarm with the vigilance of a sheep-dog.

He saw a possible rival in every new-comer, but most of all he feared
Ralston; for Smith was not too blinded by prejudice to appreciate the fact
that Ralston was handsome in a strong, man's way, younger than himself,
and possessed of the advantages of education which enabled him to talk
with Dora upon subjects that left him, Smith, dumb. Such times were
wormwood and gall to Smith; yet in his heart he never doubted but that he
would have Dora and her love in the end. Smith's faith in himself and his
ability to get what he really desired was sublime. The chasm between
himself and Dora--the difference of birth and education--meant nothing to
him. It is doubtful if he recognized it. He would have considered himself
a king's equal; indeed, it would have gone hard with royalty, had royalty
by any chance ordered Smith to saddle his horse. He judged by the
standards of the plains: namely, gameness, skill, resourcefulness; to him,
there _were_ no other standards. After all, Dora Marshall was only a
woman--the superior of other women, to be sure, but a woman; and if he
wanted her--why not?

He would h