haracter in that incident, and now it had transpired that Leviatt was
the man he had beaten. This had been the way she had written it in the
story. So far the plot that had been born of her imagination had
proved to be the story of a real occurrence.

She had counted upon none but imaginary characters,--though she had
determined to clothe these with reality through study--but now, she had
discovered, she had been the chronicler of a real incident, and two of
her characters had been pitted against each other in a contest in which
there had been enough bitterness to provide the animus necessary to
carry them through succeeding pages, ready and willing to fly at each
other's throats. She was not able to conceal her satisfaction over the
discovery, and when she looked at Leviatt again she smiled broadly.

"That confession explains a great many things," she said, stooping to
recover the page that he had dropped beside her upon the rock.

"Meanin' what?" he questioned, his eyes glittering evilly.

"Meaning that I now know why you are not friendly toward Mr. Ferguson,"
she returned. "I heard that he beat you in the shooting match," she
went on tauntingly, "and then when you insulted him afterwards, he
talked very plainly to you."

The moment she had spoken she realized that her words had hurt him, for
he paled and his eyes narrowed venomously. But his voice was cold and
steady.

"Was Mr. Ferguson tellin' you that?" he inquired, succeeding in placing
ironic emphasis upon the prefix.

She was arranging the contents of her hand bag and she did not look up
as she answered him.

"That is my business," she returned quietly. "But I don't mind telling
you that the man who told me about the occurrence would not lie about
it."

"It's nice that you've got such a heap of faith in him," he sneered.

It was plain to her that he thought Ferguson had told her about the
shooting match, and it was equally plain that he still harbored evil
thoughts against the stray-man. And also, he suspected that something
more than mere friendship existed between her and Ferguson. She had
long hoped that one day she might be given the opportunity of meeting
in person a man whose soul was consumed with jealousy, in order that
she might be able to gain some impressions of the intensity of his
passion. This seemed to be her opportunity. Therefore she raised her
chin a little and looked at him with a tantalizing smile.

"Of course I have fa