cognition shining in their
depths.

"You!" he cried, without any other form of greeting. And into the word
he flung a world of harsh meaning.

Elvine's reply was a blank stare, which had in it not a fraction of the
recognition he displayed. Not for an instant did her regard waver. It
was full of a haughty displeasure at the nature of the greeting. Nor
did she deign reply.

The man sat for a moment as though incredulous. Then he thrust his hat
back from his head, displaying the brutal ugliness of his face. Elvine
observed the coarse moustache, the lean cheeks, the low forehead and
vicious eyes. The lips were hidden behind their curtain of hair.

"Say, kind o' fergotten--ain't yer?" he demanded. Then the woman's
perfectly fitting riding suit seemed to attract his attention. "Gee,"
he exclaimed, "wher' you get that dandy rig?" But even as he spoke a
change in his expression came when he recognized the horse Elvine was
riding. Suddenly he raised one hand and smoothed the tangle of
moustache with a downward gesture. It was a gesture implying complete
lack of comprehension. "Well, I'm darned!"

"You'll be more than that if you don't pass on to your work, whatever
that may be."

The coldness of the woman's tone matched the light in her dark eyes.
Every ounce of her courage had been summoned to meet the situation.

But the man displayed not the slightest regard for the threat. The
incredulity of his expression changed. And the change was subtle. It
was perfectly apparent, however, to the woman. And she nerved herself
for what was to come. An evil smile grew in the piercing black eyes,
as the man regarded the beauty which, with him, was a long stored up
memory.

"Say, when d'you quit Orrville way?" he cried derisively. "Maybe you
hadn't a heap o' use for it when your man, Bob, got shot up. Maybe you
didn't need to stop around after you got your hands on the dollars I
guess he left lying around. Say, it beats hell meetin' you this way."

But Elvine was no longer laboring under the shock of the encounter.
She had no longer any thought of the remoteness of the spot, or the
obviously brutish man with whom she was confronted. She set about
dealing with the situation with a desperate courage. "I don't know if
you're mad, or only--drunk," she said, with icy sharpness. "But you're
on my husband's land, and I suppose you work for him. What's your
name? I need to know it so I can tell him of your insol