man often. But of late she had stayed away, for the reason that
Sprague's talk and his news and his poorly hidden pity depressed her.

Presently she heard hoof beats on the hard, packed trail leading down
the canyon in the direction from which she had come. Scarcely likely
was it that Sprague should return from this direction. Ellen thought
her father had sent one of the herders for her. But when she caught a
glimpse of the approaching horseman, down in the aspens, she failed to
recognize him. After he had passed one of the openings she heard his
horse stop. Probably the man had seen her; at least she could not
otherwise account for his stopping. The glimpse she had of him had
given her the impression that he was bending over, peering ahead in the
trail, looking for tracks. Then she heard the rider come on again,
more slowly this time. At length the horse trotted out into the
opening, to be hauled up short. Ellen recognized the buckskin-clad
figure, the broad shoulders, the dark face of Jean Isbel.

Ellen felt prey to the strangest quaking sensation she had ever
suffered. It took violence of her new-born spirit to subdue that
feeling.

Isbel rode slowly across the clearing toward her. For Ellen his
approach seemed singularly swift--so swift that her surprise, dismay,
conjecture, and anger obstructed her will. The outwardly calm and cold
Ellen Jorth was a travesty that mocked her--that she felt he would
discern.

The moment Isbel drew close enough for Ellen to see his face she
experienced a strong, shuddering repetition of her first shock of
recognition. He was not the same. The light, the youth was gone.
This, however, did not cause her emotion. Was it not a sudden
transition of her nature to the dominance of hate? Ellen seemed to
feel the shadow of her unknown self standing with her.

Isbel halted his horse. Ellen had been standing near the trunk of a
fallen pine and she instinctively backed against it. How her legs
trembled! Isbel took off his cap and crushed it nervously in his bare,
brown hand.

"Good mornin', Miss Ellen!" he said.

Ellen did not return his greeting, but queried, almost breathlessly,
"Did y'u come by our ranch?"

"No. I circled," he replied.

"Jean Isbel! What do y'u want heah?" she demanded.

"Don't you know?" he returned. His eyes were intensely black and
piercing. They seemed to search Ellen's very soul. To meet their gaze
was an ordeal that only her rousing fu