mining engineer's training, he should go high in the service. "He made
the mistake of being too precipitate as a lover," concluded Wayland. "His
forthright courtship repelled her."

Meanwhile his own troubles increased. Frank's dislike had grown to an
impish vindictiveness, and if the old man Meeker had any knowledge of his
son's deviltries, he gave no sign. Mrs. Meeker, however, openly reproved
the scamp.

"You ought to be ashamed of worrying a sick man," she protested,
indignantly.

"He ain't so sick as all that; and, besides, he needs the starch taken
out of him," was the boy's pitiless answer.

"I don't know why I stay," Wayland wrote to Berea. "I'm disgusted with
the men up here--they're all tiresome except Landon--but I hate to slink
away, and besides, the country is glorious. I'd like to come down and see
you this week. May I do so? Please send word that I may."

She did not reply, and wondering whether she had received his letter or
not, he mounted his horse one beautiful morning and rode away up the
trail with a sense of elation, of eager joy, with intent to call upon her
at the ranch as he went by.

Hardly had he vanished among the pines when Clifford Belden rode in from
his ranch on Hat Creek, and called at Meeker's for his mail.

Frank Meeker was in the office, and as he both feared and disliked this
big contemptuous young cattleman, he set to work to make him jealous.

"You want to watch this one-lung boarder of ours," he warned, with a
grin. "He's been writing to Berrie, and he's just gone down to see her.
His highfalutin ways, and his fine white hands, have put her on the
slant."

Belden fixed a pair of cold, gray-blue eyes on his tormentor, and said:
"You be careful of your tongue or I'll put _you_ on the slant."

"I'm her own cousin," retorted Frank. "I reckon I can say what I please
about her. I don't want that dude Easterner to cut you out. She guided
him over here, and gave him her slicker to keep him dry, and I can see
she's terribly taken with him. She's headstrong as a mule, once she gets
started, and if she takes a notion to Norcross it's all up with you."

"I'm not worrying," retorted Belden.

"You'd better be. I was down there the other day, and it 'peared like she
couldn't talk of anything else but Mister Norcross, Mister Norcross, till
I was sick of his name."

An hour later Belden left the mill and set off up the trail behind
Norcross, his face fallen into stern lines. Frank w