mazingly charming
way. Her lips were redder than ever before; her eyes were gayer and
grayer and softer and sweeter. Her voice tinkled with new, thrilling
music. She was just exactly perfect in Steve Packard's eyes.

"You're super," said Steve. "You're superlative. You haven't done a
thing all these long, weary months except grow more devilishly
attractive."

"Are you as savage as you looked?" she asked swiftly.

For a brief instant he turned his eyes away from her and gazed after a
herd that was moving slowly toward the north, Barbee and the other boys
heading again toward the home range. But, no matter what rage and
sullen chagrin lay in his heart, his eyes, returning to Terry, showed
that already her coming had worked its change. He appeared almost
content.

"Are you going to shake hands?" he asked.

"Shall I?" she asked. "We are to be good friends after all?"

"Or, are you going to kiss me?"

Terry arched her brows at him. But there was a live fire in her eyes
and a crimsoning tide under her lovely skin.

"Smarty!" cried the old Terry. "Just try getting fresh with me and
you'll get your face slapped!"

Whereupon Steve's laughter boomed out joyously.

"It's Terry come home again!" he announced to the open meadow about
them. "Terry herself."

Was it Terry herself? She seemed strangely embarrassed all of a
sudden. Just why? Terry didn't know.

"We are going out in my car," she said hurriedly. It seemed that she
must hasten to make some safe remark each time that his eyes, busied
with her, rested upon her eyes. "We'll be at the ranch long before you
get your cows home. You may come to see me--if you please to."

"Who is we?" he asked.

"Oh," said Terry, "that means Mrs. Randall who is going to be cook and
chaperon."

San Juan dozed in the late afternoon heat. The corrals were between
them and the quiet street. He threw out his arms, caught Terry in them
and kissed her. And Terry, whipping back, slapped his face.

"You--you----" she panted, her face scarlet.

He touched tenderly with his finger-tips the place where her hand had
struck him.

"I'll be over to call on you and Mrs. Randall," he said. "Real soon."

Now as Steve Packard rode slowly after his cowboys and a diminishing
herd, the dust-filled air, dry and hot as it was, seemed sweet and
caressing to his temples, his eyes mused happily. Blenham had just
worsted him, Blenham had tricked him, had put him to the heavy e