ob's leg was hurt," she said. She waited for an
instant, watching the sneer on Calumet's face, and then went on firmly,
as though she had decided not to let anything he said disturb her. "So
when Grandfather proposed coming here I agreed. We took what few
personal effects that were left us. We traveled for two months--"

"I ain't carin' to hear your family history," interrupted Calumet.
"You started to tell me about my dad."

"We were following the river trail near here," the girl went on firmly,
scorning to pay any attention to this insult; "when we heard shooting.
I stayed with the wagon while grandfather went to investigate. We
found two men--Tom Taggart and his son Neal--concealed in the
cottonwood, trying to shoot your father, who was in the house. Your
father had been wounded in the shoulder and it would not have been long
before--"

"Who are the Taggarts?" questioned Calumet, his lips setting strangely.

"They own a ranch near here--the Arrow. The motive behind their desire
to kill your father makes another story which you shall hear some time
if you have the patience," she said with jeering emphasis.

"I ain't particular."

The girl's lips straightened. "Grandfather helped your father drive
the Taggarts away," she went on. "Your father was living here alone
because several of his men had sought to betray him and he had
discharged them all. Your father was wounded very badly and
grandfather and I took care of him until he recovered. He liked us,
wanted us to stay here, and we did."

"Pretty soft for a pair of poverty-stricken adventurers," commented
Calumet.

The girl's voice was cold and distinct despite the insult.

"Your father liked me particularly well. A year ago he drew up a will
giving me all his property and cutting you off without a cent. He gave
me the will to keep for him."

"Fine!" was Calumet's dryly sarcastic comment.

"But I destroyed the will," went on the girl.

Calumet's expression changed to surprised wonder, then to mockery.

"You're locoed!" he declared. "Why didn't you take the property?"

"I didn't want it; it was yours."

Calumet forgot to sneer; his wonder and astonishment over the girl's
ability to resist such a temptation were so great as to shock him to
silence. She and her grandfather were dependants, abroad without means
of support, and yet the girl had refused a legacy which she and her
relative had undoubtedly earned. Such sturdy honesty surprised