h his amusement. "Gad, you've got a sharp tongue.
I'd pity the man you marry--unless he drove with a tight rein."

"That's not what we're discussing, Mr. MacQueen. Are you going to send me
home?"

"Not till you've made us a nice long visit, my dear. You're quite safe
here. My men are plumb gentle. They'll eat out of your hand. They don't
insult ladies. I've taught 'em----"

"Pity you couldn't teach their leader, too."

He acknowledged the hit. "Come again, dearie. But what's your complaint?
Haven't I treated you white so far?"

"No. You insulted me grossly when you brought me here by force."

"Did I lay a hand on you?"

"If it had been necessary you would have."

"You're right, I would," he nodded. "I've taken a fancy to you. You're a
good-looking and a plucky little devil. I've a notion to fall in love with
you."

"Don't!"

"Why not? Say I'm a villain and a bad lot. Wouldn't it be a good thing for
me to tie up with a fine, straight-up young lady like you? Me, I like the
way your eyes flash. You've got a devil of a temper, haven't you?"

They had been walking toward a pile of rocks some little way from the
cluster of cabins. Now he sat down and smiled impudently across at her.

"That's my business," she flung back stormily.

Genially he nodded. "So it is. Mine, too, when we trot in double
harness."

Her scornful eyes swept up and down him. "I wouldn't marry you if you were
the last man on earth."

"No. Well, I'm not partial to that game myself. I didn't mention
matrimony, did I?"

The meaning she read in his mocking, half-closed eyes startled the girl.
Seeing this, he added with a shrug:

"Just as you say about that. We'll make you Mrs. MacQueen on the level if
you like."

The passion in her surged up. "I'd rather lie dead at your feet--I'd
rather starve in these hills--I'd rather put a knife in my heart!"

He clapped his hands. "Fine! Fine! That Bernhardt woman hasn't got a
thing on you when it comes to acting, my dear. You put that across bully.
Never saw it done better."

"You--coward!" Her voice broke and she turned to leave him.

"Stop!" The ring of the word brought her feet to a halt. MacQueen padded
across till he faced her. "Don't make any mistake, girl. You're mine. I
don't care how. If it suits you to have a priest mumble words over us,
good enough. But I'm the man you've got to get ready to love."

"I hate you."

"That's a good start, you little catamount."

"I'd rather die--a