een. But now she sobbed into a pillow, softly, so
that nobody might hear. Why must she spend her life in such
surroundings? If the books she read told the truth, the world was full
of gentle, kindly people who lived within the law and respected each
other's rights. Why was it in her horoscope to be an outcast? Why
must she look at everybody with bitterness and push friendship from her
lest it turn to poison at her touch? For one hour she had found joy in
comradeship with this stranger. Then Tighe had whispered it that he
was probably a spy. She had returned home only to have her doubts
about her own family stirred to life again. Were there no good, honest
folk in the world at all?

She washed her telltale eyes and ventured downstairs to look after
supper. The Mexican cook was already peeling the potatoes. She gave
him directions about the meal and went out to the garden to get some
radishes and lettuce. On the way she had to pass the corral. Her
brother Hal, Slim Sanders, and Cherokee Street were roping and branding
some calves. The guest of the house had hung his coat and hat on a
fence-post to keep them from getting soiled, but the hat had fallen
into the dust.

Beulah picked up the hat and brushed it. As she dusted with her
handkerchief the under side of the rim her eyes fell upon two initials
stamped into the sweat pad. The letters were "R.B." The owner of the
hat called himself Cherokee Street. Why, then, should he have these
other initials printed on the pad? There could be only one answer to
that question. He was passing under a name that was not his own.

If so, why? Because he was a spy come to get evidence against her
people for the express company.

The eyes of the girl blazed. The man had come to ruin her father, to
send her brothers to prison, and he was accepting their hospitality
while he moled for facts to convict them. To hear the shout of his gay
laughter as a calf upset him in the dust was added fuel to the fire of
her anger. If he had looked as villainous as Dave Meldrum, she could
have stood it better, but any one would have sworn that he was a clean,
decent young fellow just out of college.

She called to him. Roy glanced up and came across the corral. His
sleeves were rolled to the elbows and the shirt open at the throat.
Flowing muscles rippled under the white skin of his forearms as he
vaulted the fence to stand beside her. He had the graceful poise of an
athlete