t ragged intervals--the storm had broken. Walking
gingerly from her room, on her lame foot, she found the house empty.
Her father, Kelly told her, had gone out early, and she sat down to a
late breakfast glad to be undisturbed in her thoughts. Her mind was
still in a confusion of opinions; some, long-cherished being crowded,
so to say, to the wall; others, more than once rejected, growing
bolder. It was in this mental condition that her seclusion was invaded
by Van Horn.

He swept off his hat with a show of spirits. "Just heard you'd got
home." He sat down with her at the table. "Everybody thought you
stayed in town last night. Got lost, eh?"

Kate raised her coffee cup non-committally. "For awhile," she murmured
between sips.

"What time did you get here?"

"I was so glad to get to bed I never looked at my watch." Again she
regarded him, quite innocently, over the rim of her cup. "Did anybody
lose any stock?"

He did not abandon his inquisition willingly, but each time he asked a
question, Kate parried and asked one in turn. He gave up without
having gained any information she meant to withhold.

It was not hard to keep him in good humor; indeed, it was rather too
easy. He pushed back his chair, crossed his legs, talked of a strong
cattle market for the fall and spoke of Hawk and the hunt he was
keeping up for him. "They had a story around--or some of the boys had
the idea--that his friends would pick a wet night like last night to
take him into town."

"Is he still in the country?"

"Sure he is. Say, Kate," he changed his attitude as lightly as he did
his subject--uncrossed his legs, squared himself in his chair and threw
his elbows on the table.

She met the new disposition with a tone of prudent reserve: "What is
it?"

"When are you going to do something for a lonesome old scout?" he asked
bluntly.

With as little concern as possible, she put down her knife and fork,
and, with her hands seeking her napkin, looked at him. "What do you
mean?" she returned collectedly, "by 'doing something'?"

"Marry me."

"Never."

The passage was disconcertingly quick. Van Horn, thrown quite aback,
remonstrated. His discomfiture was so undisguised that Kate was
embarrassed. The next moment he was very angry. "If that's the case,"
he blurted out, "what's the use o' my sticking around here fighting
your battles?"

"You're not fighting my battles."

"Maybe you don't call 'em your father's, eith