"And I tell you," he snapped back at her, "that I don't care a damn if
you do. Must I tell you twice that I am through with you?"

He set his foot to the stirrup. Gloria, pride lost in panic, ran to him
and grasped his arm, crying to him:

"You mustn't leave me this way! It's brutal ... it's murder."

"I gave my promise to Ben," he said. "You are not worth breaking a
promise."

"If you won't take me back, then let me go with you."

"Worthless and selfish and cowardly! Useless and vain and brainless!
Good God! am I, a man full grown, to loiter on the trail with the like
of you? Let go!" He shook her hand off roughly and swung up into the
saddle, sending his horse with a boot-heel in the flank down to the
ford. But Gloria screamed after him, and ran after him, down to the
creek and through it, calling out:

"Mark! Mark! For God's sake don't leave me. I am afraid; I will die of
fear. Take me with you...."

He did not look back at her, but he did pause. After all, she was the
daughter of his old friend.

"The woods are free and open," he said slowly. "To even such as you. For
the third time and for the last I tell you this: I am done with you. But
if you like you may follow behind me. I will wait for you ten minutes.
Not here, but on the ridge up there. And if you have not come, I will go
on at the end of that time. That is my solemn word, Gloria Gaynor."

He rode from her, straight and massive in the saddle, up the slope among
the big-boled trees, and in a trice out of sight. She stood like one in
a sudden trance. Then, with an inarticulate moan, she ran into the grove
and grasped Blackie's rope, and dragged at him trying to make him run
with her to her saddle and few belongings. The saddle nearly
overmastered her; it was heavy, and she knew as little of it as did any
city girl. But her need was sore and her young body not without supple
strength. In half of the allotted time Gloria came riding up the ridge.
Now King glanced toward her briefly. But less at her than at her pack.

"You had better go back for the rest of the grub," he said to her. "And
for your blanket-roll. That would be my advice to the devil himself....
You can do it in the five minutes left to you."

Gloria flung up her head, opened her lips for a stinging reply, and then
held for a moment in silence and hesitation.

"You hideous brute!" she flung at him. But none the less she hastened
back for her outfit. Five minutes later they rode on into