m afraid to look," she answered. "It's so brave it
hurts."

"BRAVE?--now that's funny."

"Isn't it? But it just makes me feel that way. It's brave. Now the
houses and streets and things in the city aren't brave. But this is. I
don't know why. It just is."

"By golly, I think you're right," he exclaimed. "It strikes me that way,
now you speak of it. They ain't no games or tricks here, no cheatin'
an' no lyin'. Them trees just stand up natural an' strong an' clean
like young boys their first time in the ring before they've learned its
rottenness an' how to double-cross an' lay down to the bettin' odds an'
the fight-fans. Yep; it is brave. Say, Saxon, you see things, don't you?"
His pause was almost wistful, and he looked at her and studied her with
a caressing softness that ran through her in resurgent thrills. "D'ye
know, I'd just like you to see me fight some time--a real fight, with
something doin' every moment. I'd be proud to death to do it for you.
An' I'd sure fight some with you lookin' on an' understandin'. That'd be
a fight what is, take it from me. An' that's funny, too. I never wanted
to fight before a woman in my life. They squeal and screech an' don't
understand. But you'd understand. It's dead open an' shut you would."

A little later, swinging along the flat of the valley, through the
little clearings of the farmers and the ripe grain-stretches golden in
the sunshine, Billy turned to Saxon again.

"Say, you've ben in love with fellows, lots of times. Tell me about it.
What's it like?"

She shook her head slowly.

"I only thought I was in love--and not many times, either--"

"Many times!" he cried.

"Not really ever," she assured him, secretly exultant at his unconscious
jealousy. "I never was really in love. If I had been I'd be married
now. You see, I couldn't see anything else to it but to marry a man if I
loved him."

"But suppose he didn't love you?"

"Oh, I don't know," she smiled, half with facetiousness and half with
certainty and pride. "I think I could make him love me."

"I guess you sure could," Billy proclaimed enthusiastically.

"The trouble is," she went on, "the men that loved me I never cared for
that way.--Oh, look!"

A cottontail rabbit had scuttled across the road, and a tiny dust cloud
lingered like smoke, marking the way of his flight. At the next turn a
dozen quail exploded into the air from under the noses of the horses.
Billy and Saxon exclaimed in mutual delight.