Boyle--men like
Smith, who moved along the lower levels of life and smoothed over the
rough places for others to pass by and by! It must be but the reflection
of thought in higher planes--"If I had a woman around the place!" Such
then was the predatory reputation of Jerry Boyle, who was capable of
dishonorable acts in more directions than one, whose very presence was a
taint.

And he would ride back there tomorrow evening, perhaps after the sun had
set, perhaps after darkness had fallen, to receive the answer to his
dishonorable proposal that she sacrifice her friend to save herself from
his spite, and the consequences of her own misguided act.

"If I had a woman around the place!"

The spark in the tinder was spreading, warming, warming, glowing into a
fierce, hot flame. Like a wolf--like a wolf--Smith would take a shot at
him--like a wolf! Smith had compared him to a wolf; had said he could be
as mean as a wolf--and if there was a woman around the place!

She went into the tent, the blood rising hot to her temples, beating,
singing in her ears. The revolver which she had brought with her on the
doctor's advice hung at the head of her cot. With it strapped around her
she went back to her stove, which she fed with a wild vigor, exulting in
seeing the flames pour out of the pipe and the thin sides grow red.

"Like a wolf--like a wolf!"

The words pounded in her mind, leaped through her circulation like
quickening fire.

"Like a wolf--if there was a woman around the house----"

And a man like that was coming back, perhaps when the darkness had let
down over that still valley, expecting her to say that she had killed
the hope of her dearest friend to shield herself from his smirched and
guilty hand!

CHAPTER XV

AN ARGUMENT ENDS

Morning found Agnes only the more firmly determined to bear her troubles
alone. Smith came by early. He looked curiously at the revolver, which
she still carried at her waist, but there was approval in his eyes. The
sight of the weapon seemed to cheer Smith, and make him easier in his
mind about something that had given him unrest. She heard him singing as
he passed on to his work. Across the river the bride was singing also,
and there seemed to be a song in even the sound of the merry axes among
the cottonwoods, where her neighboring settler and his two lank sons
were chopping and hewing the logs for their cabin. But there was no song
in her own heart, where it was needed mo