ome creature in
the world. You're nothing but a low-down horse-thief, and you never will
be anything but a horse-thief, till somebody shoots you--then you'll be
a carrion." Her eyes were blazing again, and Purdy actually winced at
her words. "If you were dying of thirst I'd pour alkali dust down your
throat. Do I make myself plain? Do you understand now thoroughly just
what I think of you? Because if you don't I'll go on and explain----"

"Oh, I guess I git you, all right," sneered Purdy, "from what you
mentioned I gather you ain't seriously considerin' me for a husban'.
Well, you've had yer say--next time it'll be my turn. Them was hard
words, but some day you'll eat 'em--an' when you've got 'em et, you'll
sing a different tune. Where's McWhorter?"

"Lambing camp," she answered shortly, and disappeared into the cabin
slamming the door behind her.

Purdy sat for a moment staring at the door, then whirled his horse, and
rode away. The girl's words had thrown him into a terrible rage: "This
time a week from now, you'll wish to God you hadn't spoke 'em," he
muttered, and, avoiding the lambing camp, swung toward the river. "Kill
me some day, will she? She meant it, too. She's a hell-cat!"

He headed up stream, following the shore of the swollen river,
muttering, cursing, plotting as he rode. And so he came to the high
bluff that overlooked the mouth of a broad coulee. He paused on the rim
of the bluff and stared out over the raging flood. Something directly
below him caught his eye, and he glanced downward. A water-logged craft,
which he recognized as Long Bill Kearney's ferry boat, lay grounded
against the narrow strip of sloping beach that lay between the foot of
the bluff and the river. At the same instant an object lying part way up
the slope caught his eye and instinctively he jerked his horse back,
swung to the ground and, crawling to the rim of the bluff looked
cautiously over the edge. For a long time he stared downward at the
motionless form of a woman. Her face was not visible but he could see
that she wore a riding costume, and a hat of approved cowboy pattern. In
vain his eyes searched the beach, and the bluff, and even the river.
"Crossin' on Long Bill's ferry an' the cable busted," he muttered, "but,
it's a cinch she wasn't crossin' alone--an' it's a cinch they ain't no
one else around--onless they're up the coulee. Maybe whoever was along
got drownded--anyhow, I'm goin' to find out--an' if she's all alone-