e his decision for him, for he followed the girl at
once, while Jezebel with a shrug walked on with the horse.

Kate handed the stranger the long-handled tin dipper and watched him
gravely while he drank the water in gulps, draining it to the last drop.

"Guess you're a booze-fighter, Mister," she observed, casually, much as
she might have commented that his unkempt beard was brown. Amusement
twinkled in his eyes at the personal remark and her utter
unconsciousness of having said anything at which by any chance he could
take offense, but he replied noncommittally:

"I've put away my share, Miss."

"I can always pick 'em out. Nearly all the freighters and cow punchers
that stop here get drunk."

He looked at her quizzically.

"The trapper you were playing tag with when I came looks as if he might
be ugly when he'd had too much."

He was startled by the intensity of the expression which came over her
face as she said, between her clenched teeth:

"I hate that 'breed'!"

"He isn't just the pardner," dryly, "that I'd select for a long camping
trip."

Her pupils dilated and she lowered her voice:

"He's ornery--Pete Mullendore."

As though in response to his name, that person came around the corner
with his bent-kneed slouch, giving to the girl as he passed a look so
malignant, and holding so unmistakable a threat, that it chilled and
sobered the stranger who stood leaning against the water barrel. The
girl returned it with a stare of brave defiance, but her hand trembled
as she returned the dipper to its nail. She looked at him wistfully, and
with a note of entreaty in her voice asked:

"Why don't you camp here to-night, Mister?"

The sheepherder shook his head.

"I've got to get on to the next water hole. I have five hundred head of
ewes in the road and they haven't had a drink for two days. They're
getting hard to hold."

Kate volunteered:

"You've about a mile and a half to go."

"Yes, I know. Well--s'long, and good luck!" He reached for his
sheepherder's staff and once more raised his hat with a manner which
spoke of another environment. Before he turned the corner of the house
an impulse prompted him to look back. Involuntarily he all but stopped.
Her eyes had in them a despairing look that seemed a direct appeal for
help. But he smiled at her, touched his hat brim and went on. The girl's
look haunted him as he trudged along the road in the thick white dust
kicked up by the tiny hoofs of the mov