"I'm right sorry I made that mistake, Ferguson," he said; "but Leviatt
sure did give you a bad reputation."

Ferguson smiled grimly. "He won't be sayin' bad things about anyone
else," he said. And then his eyes softened. "But I'm some sorry for
the cuss," he added.

"He had it comin'," returned Ben soberly. "An' I'd rather it was him
than me." He looked up at Ferguson, his eyes narrowing quizzically.
"You ain't been around here for a long time," he said. "For a man
who's just been promoted to range boss you're unnaturally shy."

Ferguson smiled. "I ain't paradin' around showin' off," he returned.
"Someone might take it into their head to bore me with a rifle bullet."

Radford's grin broadened. "I reckon you're wastin' valuable time," he
declared. "For I happen to know that she wouldn't throw nothing
worse'n a posy at you!"

"You don't say?" returned Ferguson seriously. "I reckon----"

He abruptly turned his pony down the trail that led to the cabin. As
he rode up to the porch there was a sudden movement, a rustle, a gasp
of astonishment, and Mary Radford stood in the doorway looking at him.
For a moment there was a silence that might have meant many things.
Both were thinking rapidly over the events of their last meeting at
this very spot. Then Ferguson moved uneasily in the saddle.

"You got that there rifle anywheres handy?" he asked, grinning at her.

Her eyes drooped; one foot nervously pushed out the hem of her skirts.
Then she laughed, flushing crimson.

"It wasn't loaded anyway," she said.

The sunset was never more beautiful than to-day on the hill in Bear
Flat. Mary Radford sat on the rock in her accustomed place and
stretched out, full length beside her, was Ferguson. He was looking
out over the flat, at the shadows of the evening that were advancing
slowly toward the hill.

She turned toward him, her eyes full and luminous. "I am almost at the
end of my story," she said smiling at him. "But," and her forehead
wrinkled perplexedly, "I find the task of ending it more difficult than
I had anticipated. It's a love scene," she added banteringly; "do you
think you could help me?"

He looked up at her. "I reckon I could help you in a real love scene,"
he said, "but I ain't very good at pretendin'."

"But this is a real love scene," she replied stoutly; "I am writing it
as it actually occurred to me. I have reached the moment when you--I
mean the hero--has declared his love for m