n, and she was
thrilled by that knowledge. She was not responding to this new appeal,
she was sure, but she was gratified because the man was showing her by
his eyes that he was her slave, not merely a presumptuous conquest of
the moment, after the precipitate manner of more sophisticated males.

She repeated her question.

It was evident enough what Latisan wanted at that moment, but he had not
the courage to voice his wishes in regard to her; he had not enough
self-possession left to state his actual desires as to food, even. There
was one staple dish of the drive; he was heartily sick of that food, but
he could not think of anything else right then.

"Bub--bub--beans!" he stuttered.

She hurried away.

When she returned with her tray she did not interrupt any conversation
between the two men at the little table; the Vose-Mern man still had his
back turned on Latisan; the drive master sat bolt upright in a prim
attitude which suggested a sort of juvenile desire to mind his manners.

The girl's eyes were still alight with the spirit of jest. She placed
steak and potatoes and other edibles in front of Latisan. She gave the
gentleman from the agency a big bowl of beans.

"I didn't order those!"

"I'm sorry, sir. I must have got my orders mixed."

"You have! You've given that"--he stopped short of applying any epithet
to Latisan--"you've given him my order!"

"Won't you try our beans--just once? The cook tells me they were baked
in the ground, woodman style."

"Then give 'em to the woodsmen--it's the kind of fodder that's fit for
'em."

Latisan leaned across the table and tugged Crowley's sleeve. "Look me in
the eye, my friend!" The man who was exhorted found the narrowed, hard
eyes very effective in a monitory way. "I don't care what you eat, as a
general thing. But you have just slurred woodsmen and have stuck up your
nose at the main grub stand-by of the drive. You're going to eat those
beans this lady has very kindly brought. If you don't eat 'em, starting
in mighty sudden, I'll pick up that bowl and tip it over and crown you
with it, beans and all. Because I'm speaking low isn't any sign I don't
mean what I say!"

The beans were steaming under the stout man's nose. He decided that the
heat would be better in his stomach than on the top of his head; he had
just had one meal served that way. He devoured the beans and marched out
of the dining room, his way taking him past the sideboard where the new
wa