e could not
possibly make it on foot, under two hours, even if he came at all, she
told herself.

Perhaps it was an imaginary grievance, based upon the reputation which
Boyle had earned for himself; maybe the poor, declaiming philosopher had
forgotten all about it by now, and had returned to his discourses and
his argument. She brewed a pot of tea, for the shadows were marking
noonday, and began to consider riding down the river to find Boyle and
tell him of the man's threat, leaving him to follow his own judgment in
the matter. His conscience would tell him whether to stand or fly.

Strong as her resentment was against the man who had come into her plans
so unexpectedly and thrown them in a tangle, she felt that it would be
wrong to her own honesty to conceal from him the knowledge of his
danger. Perhaps there remained manliness enough in him to cause him to
withdraw his avaricious scheme to oust Dr. Slavens in return for a
service like that. She determined at last to seek Boyle in his camp.

She brought up her horse and saddled it, took a look around camp to see
that everything was in shape--for she liked to leave things tidy, in
case some of the neighbors should stop in--and was about to mount, when
a man's head and shoulders appeared from behind her own cottonwood log.
A glance showed her that it was the sheep-herder. His head was bare, his
wild hair in his eyes.

He got to his feet, his pistol in his hand.

"I watched you," said he, sheathing the weapon, as if he had changed his
mind about the use of it. "I knew you'd go!"

"But I didn't intend to when I parted from you up there on the hill,"
she declared, greatly confused over being caught in this breach of faith
with even a crazy man.

"I considered that, too," said the philosopher. "But I watched you. I'll
never be fool enough to entirely trust a woman again. You all lie!"

She wondered how he had arrived there so quickly and silently, for he
gave no evidence of fatigue or heat. She did not know the dry endurance
which a life like his builds up in a man. Sheep-herders in that country
are noted for their fleetness. It is a common saying of them that their
heels are as light as their heads.

But there he was, at any rate, and her good intentions toward Boyle must
be surrendered. Conscience had a palliative in the fact that she had
meant to go.

"Heaven knows I have as little reason to wish him well as you!" said
she, speaking in low voice, as if to her