e would, of course, set aside.
David would have obeyed it, but this man of the mountains, at once
domineering and stupid, would take no command from any woman. She kept
her ear trained for the rhythmic beat in the distance and decided when
she heard it she would increase her speed and not let him catch her
till she was up with the train. Then she would coldly listen to his
words of apology and have the satisfaction of seeing him look small,
and probably not know what to say.

Only it didn't happen that way. He made no attempt to follow. As she
galloped across the plain he drew his horse to a walk, his face dark
and frowning. Her scorn and blush had left his blood hot. Her last
words had fired his anger. He had known her antagonism, seen it in her
face on the night when Bella was sick, felt its sting when she turned
from him to laugh with the others. And it had stirred him to a secret
irritation. For he told himself she was only a baby, but a pretty
baby, on whose brown and rosy face and merry slits of eyes a man might
like to look. Now he gazed after her swearing softly through his beard
and holding his horse to its slowest step. As her figure receded he
kept his eyes upon it. They were long-sighted eyes, used to great
distances, and they watched, intent and steady, to see if she would
turn her head.

"Damn her," he said, when the dust of the train absorbed her. "Does
she think she's the only woman in the world?"

After supper that evening Susan called David over to sit on the edge of
her blanket. This was a rare favor. He came hurrying, all alight with
smiles, cast himself down beside her and twined his fingers in her warm
grasp. She answered his hungry glance with a sidelong look, glowingly
tender, and David drew the hand against his cheek. Nobody was near
except Daddy John and Courant, smoking pipes on the other side of the
fire.

"Do you love me?" he whispered, that lover's text for every sermon
which the unloving find so irksome to answer, almost to bear.

But now she smiled and whispered,

"Of course, silly David."

"Ah, Susan, you're awakening," he breathed in a shaken undertone.

She again let the soft look touch his face, sweet as a caress. From
the other side of the fire Courant saw it, and through the film of pipe
smoke, watched. David thought no one was looking, leaned nearer, and
kissed her cheek. She gave a furtive glance at the man opposite, saw
the watching eyes, and with a