unfavorable," she finished for him. "I know it." She
laughed in embarrassment. "You thought, and still think, that I'm one of
these medicine sharks--a regular money grabber."

Van Lennop replied dryly----

"I do not recollect ever having known another physician quite so keen
about his fee."

She flushed, but went on determinedly--

"I know how it must have looked to you--I've thought of it a thousand
times--but there were extenuating circumstances. I came here 'broke'
with only a little black case of pills and a few bandages. My hotel bill
was overdue and my little drug stock exhausted. I was 'up against
it'--desperate--and I believed if that fellow got away I'd never see or
hear of him again. I've had that experience and I was just in a position
where I couldn't afford to take a chance. There isn't much practice
here, it's a miserably healthful place, and necessity sometimes makes us
seem sordid whether we are or not. I'd like your good opinion, Mr. Van
Lennop. Won't you try and see my position from a more charitable point
of view?"

He wanted to be fair to her, he intended to be just, and yet he found
himself only able to say--

"I can't quite understand how you could find it in your heart even to
hesitate in a case like that."

"I meant to do it in the end," she pleaded. "But I was wrong, I see that
now, and I've been sorrier than you can know. Please be charitable."

She put out her hand impulsively and he took it--reluctantly. He
wondered why she repelled him so strongly even while recognizing the odd
charm of manner which was undoubtedly hers when she chose to display it.

"I hope we'll be good friends," she said earnestly.

"I trust so," he murmured, but in his heart he knew they never would be
"good friends."

XII

THEIR FIRST CLASH

The Symes Irrigation Company was now well under way. The application for
segregation of 200,000 acres of irrigable land had been granted. The
surveyors had finished and the line of stakes stretching away across the
hills was a mecca for Sunday sight-seers. The contracts for the moving
of dirt from the intake to the first station had been let and when the
first furrow was turned and the first scoop of dirt removed from the
excavation, Crowheart all but carried Andy P. Symes on its shoulders.

"Nothing succeeds like success," he was wont to tell himself frequently
but without bitterness or resentment for previous lack of appreciation.
He could let bygones be