e was
obliged to return to the forbidden subject.

There was a pain in her breast as well as his. What was the matter
with him that he treated her so despite-fully? How else could she find
out what was in his heart but by making him lose his temper?

"Maybe I tak' Big Jack," she remarked casually.

"All right," returned Sam bitterly.

"He's the richest."

"A regular woman's reason," said Sam. "I wish you joy."

Would nothing move him? Bela felt as if she were beating with her
hands on a rock. "What do you care?" she asked insolently. Both voices
rang with bitterness now.

"I don't care."

She sneered.

"What you get mad for?"

Sam's endurance gave way. He sprang up.

"It's rotten!" he cried. "The whole business! That's what makes me
mad! Have you no shame, setting a whole camp of men against each other
like that? And coolly talking over which one you'll take! I tell you
it'll likely end in murder. Maybe you'd like that. Give you quite a
send-off, eh? Well, you can't drag me into it. I like a different kind
of woman."

Bela was no tame spirit. Anger answered anger. She faced him pale and
blazing-eyed.

"No woman want you, anyhow!" she cried. "You cook! You only half a
man! You too scared to fight for a woman! You only talk! Go away from
me! I tak' a _man_ for my 'osban'!"

Sam, beside himself with rage, stepped forward and raised his clenched
fist over her head. Bela laughed in his face. Suddenly he seemed to
see himself from the outside, and was filled with blank horror.

Turning, he snatched up his coat and shirt, and crashed blindly away
through the willows.

"Go and do your cookin'!" Bela cried after him.

Bela's cache was on the opposite side of the creek from the men's
cabin. The only place where Sam could cross without getting another
wetting was by the stepping-stones near the lake. He headed for the
pines where the going was better and encircled the edge of the meadow.

A great turmoil was going on within him. He was aghast at the gust of
passion that had drowned all his senses for a moment. He had not known
he contained such possibilities. To come so near to striking a woman!
Horrible!

Naturally, he did not fail to blame her. A devil--to provoke men to
such a pitch of madness! Well, he was done with her. Anyhow, he had
seen her now in her true colours. She was no good! There could be no
further argument about that. If he ever had anything to do with her
let him be called a soft-heade