fight the devil with cunning, he thought, bitterly.

Just then Beatrice gave an unearthly screech, that made the horses'
knees bend under them. When Keith whirled to see what it was, she was
standing upon the rock, with her skirts held tightly around her, like
the pictures of women when a mouse gets into the room.

"Oh, Mr. Cameron! A sn-a-a-ke!"

Came a metallic br-r-r, the unmistakable war cry of the rattler. Into
Kelly's eyes came a look of fear, and he sidled gingerly. The buzz had
sounded unpleasantly close to his heels. For one brief instant the cold
eye of his rifle regarded harmlessly the hillside. During that instant a
goodly piece of sandstone whinged under his jaw, and he went down, with
Keith upon him like a mountain lion. The latter snatched the rifle
and got up hurriedly, for he had not forgotten the rattler. Kelly lay
looking up at him in a dazed way that might have been funny at any other
time.

"I wondered if you were good at grasping opportunities," said Beatrice.
When he looked, there she was, sitting down on the rock, with her
little, gloved hands folded in her lap, and that adorable demure look on
her face; and a gleam in her eyes he knew was not scorn, though he could
not rightly tell what it really did mean.

Keith wondered at her vaguely, but a man can't have his mind on a dozen
things at once. It was important that he keep a sharp watch on Kelly,
and his eyes were searching for a gleaming, gray spotted coil which he
felt to be near.

"You needn't look, Mr. Cameron. There isn't any snake. It--it was I."

"You!" Keith's jaw dropped.

"Look out, Mr. Cameron. It wouldn't work a second time, I'm afraid."

Keith turned back before Kelly had more than got to his elbow; plainly
Kelly was not feeling well just then. He looked unhappy, and rather
sick.

"If you'll hand me the gun, Mr. Cameron, I think I can hold it steady
while you fix the saddles. And then we'll go home. I--I don't think I
really care to climb the hill."

What Keith wanted to do was to take her in his arms and kiss her till
he was tired. What he did do was back toward her, and let her take the
rifle quickly and deftly from his hands. She rested the gun upon
her knee, and brought it to bear upon Mr. Kelly with a composure not
assuring to that gentleman, and she tried to look as if she really and
truly would shoot a man--and managed to look only the more kissable.

"Don't squirm, Mr. Kelly. I won't bite, if I do buzz sometime