d be on his ranch Hilma had always managed
to avoid him. Once, even, she had spent a month, about Christmas time,
with her mother's father, who kept a hotel in San Francisco.

Now, to-day, however, he had her all to himself. He would put an end
to the situation that troubled him, and vexed him, day after day,
month after month. Beyond question, the moment had come for something
definite, he could not say precisely what. Readjusting his cigar between
his teeth, he resumed his speech. It suited his humour to take the girl
into his confidence, following an instinct which warned him that this
would bring about a certain closeness of their relations, a certain
intimacy.

"What do you think of this row, anyways, Miss Hilma,--this railroad
fuss in general? Think Shelgrim and his rushers are going to jump Quien
Sabe--are going to run us off the ranch?"

"Oh, no, sir," protested Hilma, still breathless. "Oh, no, indeed not."

"Well, what then?"

Hilma made a little uncertain movement of ignorance.

"I don't know what."

"Well, the League agreed to-day that if the test cases were lost in
the Supreme Court--you know we've appealed to the Supreme Court, at
Washington--we'd fight."

"Fight?"

"Yes, fight."

"Fight like--like you and Mr. Delaney that time with--oh, dear--with
guns?"

"I don't know," grumbled Annixter vaguely. "What do YOU think?"

Hilma's low-pitched, almost husky voice trembled a little as she
replied, "Fighting--with guns--that's so terrible. Oh, those revolvers
in the barn! I can hear them yet. Every shot seemed like the explosion
of tons of powder."

"Shall we clear out, then? Shall we let Delaney have possession, and S.
Behrman, and all that lot? Shall we give in to them?"

"Never, never," she exclaimed, her great eyes flashing.

"YOU wouldn't like to be turned out of your home, would you, Miss Hilma,
because Quien Sabe is your home isn't it? You've lived here ever since
you were as big as a minute. You wouldn't like to have S. Behrman and
the rest of 'em turn you out?"

"N-no," she murmured. "No, I shouldn't like that. There's mamma and----"

"Well, do you think for one second I'm going to let 'em?" cried
Annixter, his teeth tightening on his cigar. "You stay right where
you are. I'll take care of you, right enough. Look here," he demanded
abruptly, "you've no use for that roaring lush, Delaney, have you?"
"I think he is a wicked man," she declared. "I know the Railroad has
pretended to s