e came sudden shadows in a narrow part of the
road, a sharp turn, the absolute necessity of slowing down just a
trifle more, and then----

"It's all right; go ahead!" called Packard lightly. He was standing on
her running-board.

She had thrown off her hat to the cool of the evening. As they passed
out from the shadows he could see her eyes. He pushed back his own hat
and Terry saw his eyes. For a moment, while the car sped on, neither
spoke.

Looking at her he had glimpsed wonder, an annoyance that was swiftly
growing into anger, and a certain assurance that Miss Terry Temple
fully intended to remember this day and to square accounts with Stephen
Packard.

Returning his look, Terry had seen but one emotion in his eyes: pure
triumph. She could not know how the man of him, having but just now
succeeded in this first task he had set himself, felt a sudden
confidence of the future.

"If I had let you go by," said Packard quietly, "I should have felt
that I had let my destiny pass me!"

"Don't you start in getting fresh just because it's moonlight!"

Steve looked puzzled, understood, put back his head and laughed
joyously. Then, his face suddenly serious again, he considered her
speculatively. Now for the first time he became aware that Terry was
already carrying a passenger. A small man, Japanese, immaculate, and
frightened so that his teeth were chattering.

He was Iki, who had come into Red Creek this evening by train and due
to cook for the Temple ranch. Just now he was screwed up in his place,
ready to jump if Steve moved his way, his purse clutched in his plump
hand, half offered already. Steve beamed upon him, then turned his
eyes, still speculative, upon Terry.

"Do you care to tell me," said Terry tartly, "why you're always getting
in my way? Think you're smart, climbing aboard like a monkey? You've
done the trick twice; do I have to look out for you every time I take
the car out?"

"I just happen to be in a hurry," said Packard. "And going your way.
Somebody shot my horse back there for me."

Her eyes grew actually round; Iki shivered audibly. But in the girl's
case the emotion aroused by Packard's words was short-lived. Why
should a man shoot the horse under Steve Packard? Disbelief reshaped
her eyes; she cried out at him as her foot went down on the accelerator:

"Think I'm the kind to believe all the yarns you can tell? If you want
to know what I think, Steve Packard--you're a l