what
seemed hope and contrition. But there was a mocking light in his
sophisticated face, a greedy sneer in his lustful eyes, which Joan
could feel and see, although she could not read to the last shameful
depths.

"Don't try it any more," she warned, in the cool, even voice of one
sure of herself.

"I ought to have a right to kiss my future wife," he defended, a
shadow of a smile on his thin lips.

"There's not a bit of use to go on harping on that, Earl," she said,
in a way of friendly counsel, the incident already past and trampled
under foot, it seemed. "If you want to stay here and work for dad,
three years or thirty years, I don't care, but don't count on me. I
guess if you go straight and prove you deserve it, you'll not need any
girl to help you get the money."

"It's got to be you--nobody else, Joan."

"Then kiss your old million--or whatever it is--good-bye!"

Joan lifted to the saddle as if swept into it by a wave, and drew her
reins tight, and galloped away.

CHAPTER XXI

TIM SULLIVAN BREAKS A CONTRACT

"And that will be the end of it," said Tim Sullivan, finality in his
tone, his face stern, his manner severe. "I've passed my word to old
Malcolm that you'll have his boy, and have him you will."

"Boy!" said Joan.

"In experience he's no lad, and I'm glad you've discovered it," said
Tim, warming a little, speaking with more softness, not without
admiration for her penetration. "He'll be the better able to look
after you, and see they don't get his money away from him like some
simpleton."

"Oh, they'll get it, all right."

Tim had arrived that morning from a near-by camp as Joan was about to
set out for Dad Frazer's. From his way of plunging abruptly into this
matter, which he never had discussed with her before, and his
sharpness and apparent displeasure with her, Joan knew that he had
seen Reid overnight. They were beside the sheep-wagon, to a wheel of
which Joan's horse was tied, all saddled and ready to mount. The sun
was already high, for Joan had helped Charley range the flock out for
its day's grazing, and had put all things to rights in the camp,
anxious as her mind was over Mackenzie's state.

"I'll not have you treat the lad like a beggar come to ask of you,
Joan; I'll not have it at all. Be civil with him; use him kindly when
he speaks."

"He's a thousand years older than I am; he knows things that you never
heard of."

"Somebody's been whisperin' slanders of him in