it on me, but that was
before I saw you, Joan. But it's all right; I'm for it now."

"You're easy, Earl; dad's workin' you for three good years without
pay. As far as I'm concerned, you'd just as well hit the breeze out of
this country right now. Dad can't deliver the goods."

"I'm soft, but I'm not that soft, Joan. I could leave here tomorrow;
what's to hold me? And as far as the old man's cutting me out of his
will goes, I could beat it in law, and then have a pile big enough
left to break my neck if I was to jump off the top of it. They're not
putting anything over on me, Joan. I'm sticking to this little old
range because it suits me to stick. I would go tomorrow if it wasn't
for you."

Reid added this in a low voice, his words a sigh, doing it well, even
convincingly well.

"I'm sorry," Joan said, moved by his apparent sincerity, "but there's
not a bit of use in your throwing away three years, or even three more
months, of your life here, Earl."

"You'll like me better when you begin to know me, Joan. I've stood off
because I didn't want to interfere with your studies, but maybe now,
since you've got a vacation, I can come over once in a while and get
acquainted."

"Earl, it wouldn't be a bit of use." Joan spoke earnestly, pitying him
a little, now that she began to believe him.

"Why, we're already engaged," he said; "they've disposed of us like
they do princes and princesses."

"I don't know how they marry them off, but if that's the way, it won't
work on the sheep range," said Joan.

"We've been engaged, officially, ever since I struck the range, and
I've never once, never even--" He hesitated, constrained by
bashfulness, it seemed, from his manner of bending his head and
plucking at her horse's mane.

"We're not even officially engaged," she denied, coldly, not pitying
his bashfulness at all, nor bent to assist him in delivering what lay
on the end of his tongue. "You can't pick up a sheepwoman and marry
her off--like some old fool king's daughter."

Reid placed his hand over hers where it lay idly on the saddle-horn,
the reins loosely held. He leaned closer, his eyes burning, his face
near her own, so near that she shrank back, and drew on her hand to
come free.

"I don't see why we need to wait three years to get married, Joan," he
argued, his persuasive voice very soft and tender. "If the old man saw
I meant business----"

"Business!" scorned Joan.

"Sheep business, I mean, Joan," chiding