r merely to take a little canter, Tex or one of the punchers was
almost sure to join her. They always had a good excuse, but equally
always they were there; and though Mary Thorne had not the remotest notion
of the meaning of it all, she had grown convinced that there must be some
hidden motive beneath their actions, and the thought troubled her.

Tex Lynch's altered manner gave her even greater cause for anxiety. It
would have been difficult to put into words exactly where the change lay,
but she was sure that there was a difference. Up to a short time ago she
had regarded him impersonally as merely an efficient foreman whom she had
inherited from her father along with the ranch. She did so still, but she
could not remain blind to the fact that the man himself was deliberately
striving to inject a more intimate note into their intercourse. His
methods were subtle enough, but Mary Thorne was far from dull, and the
alteration in his manner made her at once indignant and a little
frightened.

"I suppose it's silly to feel that way, especially with Alf here," she
murmured as she reached the fence and swung herself out of the saddle.
"But I do wish I hadn't taken his word about--Buck Green."

She took a small pair of pliers from her saddle-pocket and deftly
untwisted the strands of wire from one of the posts, while Freckles looked
on with an expression of intelligent interest. When the gap was opened in
the fence, he walked through and waited quietly on the other side until
the wire had been replaced. It was not the first time he had done this
trick, for the trail through the mountains was a favorite retreat of the
girl's. She had discovered it long ago, and returned to it frequently,
through her own private break in the fence, especially on occasions like
this when she wanted to get away from everybody and be quite alone.

Having remounted and headed northward along the edge of the hills, her
thoughts flashed back to the discharged cow-puncher, and her brow
puckered. The whole subject affected her in a curiously complicated
fashion. From the first she had been conscious of having done the young
man an injustice. And yet, as often as she went over their final interview
in her mind--which was not seldom--she did not see how she could have done
otherwise. Her woman's intuition told her over and over again that he
could not possibly be a common thief; but if this was so, why had he
refused her the simple assurance she asked