earer. And I'm tired."

"We can stop and rest," he replied. "Then we had better go on. It's not
very much further now."

"But why not here?" she cried insistently in sudden irritation that upon
all matters this man dictated to her and dictated so assuredly. "One
place is as good as another."

"This one isn't, Miss Waverly. There's a tough lot here, and there are
no women among them. So we'll have to make it to Smith's. Do you want to
rest a while?"

"No," she cried sharply. "Let's hurry and get it over with!"

He inclined his head gravely and they went on. And again her anger rose
against this man who seemed over and over to wish to remind her that he
was a gentleman. As though she had forgotten any little incident
connected with him!

Again they made their way through lights and shadows, down into ragged
cuts in the hills, over knolls and ridges, through a forest where
raindrops were still dripping from the thick leaves and where she knew
that without him she never could have found her way. And not once more
did they speak to each other until, unexpectedly for her, they came out
of the wood and fairly upon a squat cabin with a light running out to
meet them through the square of a window.

"Smith's place," he informed her briefly.

Already three dogs had run to meet them, with much barking and simulated
fierceness, and a man and a woman had come to the door.

"Hello," called the man. "Who is it?"

"Hello, John. It's Thornton. Howdy, Mrs. Smith." Thornton tossed his
saddle to the ground, pushed down one of the dogs that had recognized
him and was leaping up on him. "Mrs. Smith, this is Miss Waverly from
Dry Town. A friend of the Templetons. She'll be grateful if you could
take her in for the night."

Man and wife came out, shook hands with the girl, the woman led her into
the cabin, and Smith took her horse. Then the rancher saw Thornton's
saddle.

"Where's your horse?" he asked quickly.

"Back at Harte's. Lame."

In a very few words he told of a deep knife cut beneath the fetlock,
explained Miss Waverly's presence with him, and ended by demanding,

"Who do you suppose did that trick for me, John? It's got me buffaloed."

Smith shook his head thoughtfully.

"By me, Buck," he answered slowly. "Most likely some jasper you've had
trouble with an' is too yeller to get even any other way. I haven't seen
any of your friends from Hill's Corners stickin' around though. Have
you?"

"No. But Miss Waverly s