"Lucy, is there anythin' between you an' Joel?" he asked, gravely.

"No," she replied, with her clear eyes up to his.

Bostil thought of a bluebell. "I'm beggin' your pardon," he said,
hastily.

"Dad, you know how Joel runs after me. I've told you. I let him till
lately. I liked him. But that wasn't why. I felt sorry for him--pitied
him."

"You did? Seems an awful waste," replied Bostil.

"Dad, I don't believe Joel is--perfectly right in his mind," Lucy said,
solemnly.

"Haw! haw! Fine compliments you're payin' yourself."

"Listen. I'm serious. I mean I've grown to see---looking back--that a
slow, gradual change has come over Joel since he was kicked in the head
by a mustang. I'm sure no one else has noticed it."

"Goin' batty over you. That's no unusual sign round this here camp.
Look at--"

"We're talking about Joel Creech. Lately he has done some queer things.
To-day, for instance. I thought I gave him the slip. But he must have
been watching. Anyway, to my surprise he showed up on Peg. He doesn't
often get Peg across the river. He said the feed was getting scarce
over there. I was dying to race Buckles against Peg, but I remembered
you wouldn't like that."

"I should say not," said Bostil, darkly.

"Well, Joel caught up to me--and he wasn't nice at all. He was worse
to-day. We quarreled. I said I'd bet he'd never follow me again and he
said he'd bet he would. Then he got sulky and hung back. I rode away,
glad to be rid of him, and I climbed to a favorite place of mine. On my
way home I saw Peg grazing on the rim of the creek, near that big
spring-hole where the water's so deep and clear. And what do you think?
There was Joel's head above the water. I remembered in our quarrel I
had told him to go wash his dirty face. He was doing it. I had to
laugh. When he saw me--he--then--then he--" Lucy faltered, blushing
with anger and shame.

"Well, what then?" demanded Bostil, quietly.

"He called, 'Hey, Luce--take off your clothes and come in for a swim!'"

Bostil swore.

"I tell you I was mad," continued Lucy, "and just as surprised. That
was one of the queer things. But never before had he dared to--to-"

"Insult you. Then what 'd you do?" interrupted Bostil, curiously.

"I yelled, 'I'll fix you, Joel Creech!'... His clothes were in a pile
on the bank. At first I thought I'd throw them in the water, but when I
got to them I thought of something better. I took up all but his shoes,
for I remembered