east
side of the lake, to go to Bee; and half an hour after arriving there
was out on the Leewell road, on horseback, galloping south, singing
a stave of a song as he dashed along. There was a dance that night at
the George Hotel, and Field was there, the handsomest and gayest
of men; and there was no prettier girl in the rooms than the one he
brought and danced so well with, and whom no one else knew. Late at
night, looking up from her flushed and happy face in a pause of the
dance, his eyes fell on another face, neither flushed nor happy,
looking at him from a door across the length of the saloon, and he was
doubly spirited and devoted after that. He did not see the face again,
but he was half conscious of being watched as the ball came at last to
an end, and he saw his charge home to the house of the friend in the
town with whom she was to spend the night. He turned away with a set
face when the door had closed upon her, and walked back quickly the
way he had come, peering into the shadows, but he saw nothing. He got
his horse from the stable and rode north along the shore as the gray
morning stole over the sky and the ever-sleeping hills and the broad,
calm, misty lake. He gave the black mare heel and rein, and brought
her white and panting into Bee. He did not put on the rough clothes
again, but went as he was to meet Long at the appointed place across
the lake. He ordered the boatman who rowed him to wait. Long was
waiting for him, lying on a grassy slope. He nodded when Field came
up.

"Long," said the latter, "I guess this is about played out."

"Just about," answered Long, looking at him steadily without moving.
"guess you'd best quit."

"Very well, come up to the Ti House at noon and we'll settle up." And
he turned and strode away. He was smoking on the porch of the Ti House
when Long came up about noon. He took down his feet from the rail,
threw away his cigar and went in with him. He sat down at a table, and
Long took a chair opposite without a word. Field made a calculation
on a scrap of paper, took out a roll of bills' and counted out the
amount. "There, Long," he said good-humoredly, "this week won't be up
till Monday, but we'll call it even time."

Something unpleasant came into the guide's eyes when Field said
"Long." "I'll trouble you," he said, "not to mention that there name
again, meaning me."

He put out his long arm and knuckled hand and drew the bills across
the board. He counted out part