e innocent young
animal, he thought her perfect; attuned to a fine harmony of grace
and color. But it was the animating vitality of her, the lightness of
motion, the fire and sparkle of expression that gave her the captivating
charm she possessed.

They were two miles nearer the camel-backed peak before he broke the
silence.

"Beats a bronco for getting over the ground. Think I'll have to get
one," he mused aloud.

"With the money you took from the Ayr bank?" she flashed.

"I might drive off some of your cows and sell them," he countered,
promptly. "About how much will they hold me up for a machine like this?"

"This is only a runabout. You can get one for twelve or fourteen hundred
dollars of anybody's money."

"Of yours?" he laughed.

"I haven't that much with me. If you'll come over and hold up the ranch
perhaps we might raise it among us," she jeered.

His mirth was genuine. "But right now I couldn't get more than how much
off y'u?"

"Sixty-three dollars is all I have with me, and I couldn't give you
more--NOT EVEN IF YOU PUT RED HOT IRONS BETWEEN MY FINGERS." She gave it
to him straight, her blue eyes fixed steadily on him.

Yet she was not prepared for the effect of her words. The last thing she
had expected was to see the blood wash out of his bronzed face, to see
his sensitive nostrils twitch with pain. He made her feel as if she had
insulted him, as if she had been needlessly cruel. And because of it she
hardened her heart. Why should she spare him the mention of it? He had
not hesitated at the shameless deed itself. Why should she shrink before
that wounded look that leaped to his fine eyes in that flash of time
before he hardened them to steel?

"You did it--didn't you?" she demanded.

"That's what they say." His gaze met her defiantly.

"And it is true, isn't it?"

"Oh, anything is true of a man that herds sheep," he returned, bitterly.

"If that is true it would not be possible for you to understand how much
I despise you."

"Thank you," he retorted, ironically.

"I don't understand at all. I don't see how you can be the man they
say you are. Before I met you it was easy to understand. But somehow--I
don't know--you don't LOOK like a villain." She found herself strangely
voicing the deep hope of her heart. It was surely impossible to look at
him and believe him guilty of the things of which, he was accused. And
yet he offered no denial, suggested no defense.

Her troubled eyes went o