progress with his wooing, nor did he expect to make more just then. His
blunt assertiveness covered a natural shyness where women were
concerned, and he had about as much idea of the fine points of the game
as a logger has of cabinet-making. Still, he was drawn to her by a
desire which he was unable to resist. He had a profound belief in
himself and in his capacity for material success; he considered himself
an eligible match for any girl, and he relied on Sheila's good sense to
realize what he had taken pains to make plain--that while his loyalty
to his employers forced him to carry out their instructions, his
sympathies were with her and her family. Of this he had given
indubitable proof. He had no intention of dropping out of sight, of
discontinuing his visits, so long as they were tolerated, of leaving
the field clear to another, perhaps to Dunne. With her he bore a white
flag always, insisting that between them there was friendly truce.

He was of the opinion that the McCraes, father and son, had no hand in
the dynamiting; though he conceded that they could make an excellent
guess at the perpetrators. But Farwell thought he could do that
himself; he fixed the responsibility on Casey Dunne.

The McCraes did not mention the dam, but Farwell had no hesitation in
broaching the subject. He predicted speedy and exemplary punishment for
the guilty.

Donald McCrae listened gravely, his face expressionless. Sandy wore a
faint, ironic smile which irritated Farwell.

"You don't think so?" asked the engineer pointedly.

"You're doing the talking--I'm not," said Sandy.

Farwell reddened angrily. There was more in the tone than in the words.
It implied that talk was Farwell's long suit. Farwell disliked Sandy
extremely, but with a self-control which he rarely exercised, forbore
to retort. Hot-tempered as he was, he realized that he could not
declare his belief in the guilt of any person without some evidence.
His smouldering eye measured Sandy, taking him in from head to foot,
and rested on the smoky golden tan of a pair of new moccasins which he
wore.

Now, Sandy had acquired the moccasin habit in childhood and retained
it. It was rarely that he wore boots around the ranch. Farwell, looking
at the new moccasins, which were handsomely embroidered with silk
thread, noted the straight inner line of the foot, from toe to heel. It
was like the foot of an aborigine; undeformed, undeflected from
nature's lines by fashionable f