ter not," he returned; "it might prove
embarrassing."

She blushed and gave her attention to the poem. It was entitled:
"Woman," and ran;

"Woman she dont need no tooter,
be she skule mam or biscut shooter.
she has most curyus ways about her,
which leads a man to kinda dout her.

Though lookin at her is shure a pleasur
there aint no way to get her measure
i reckon she had man on the run
a long while before the world begun.

I met a biscut shooter in the chance saloon
when i was blowin my coin in ratoon
while the coin lasted i owned her an the town
but when it was gone she throwed me down.

An so i say she dont need no tooter
be she skule mam or biscut shooter
she fooled me an my hart she stole
which has opened my eyes an hurt my sole."

Miss Hazelton laid the manuscript in her lap and laughed heartily.

"What a harrowing experience!" she declared. Hollis was grinning at her.

"That was a bad thing to have happen to a man," he observed; "I suppose
it rather shattered Ace's faith in woman. At least you could observe by
his actions just a moment ago that he isn't taking any more chances."

She fixed him with a defiant eye. "But he still admits that he takes
pleasure in looking at a woman!" she told him triumphantly.

"So he does. Still, that isn't remarkable. You see, a man couldn't help
that--no matter how badly he had been treated."

She had no reply to make to this, though she gave him a look that he
could not mistake. But he laughed. "I think Ace's effort ought to go
into the _Kicker_" he said. "I have no doubt that many who read the
poem will find in it a great deal of truth--perhaps a reflection of
their own personal experiences."

Her face clouded and she regarded him a little soberly. "Of your own,
perhaps?" she suggested.

"Not guilty," he returned laughing. "You see, I have never had any time
to devote to the study of women, let alone time to allow them to fool
me. Perhaps when I do have time to study them I may find some truth in
Ace's effort."

"Then women do not interest you?" She was looking down the Coyote trail.

"Well, no," he said, thinking of the busy days of his past, and not
being aware of the furtive, significant glance she threw toward him.
"You see, there have always been so many important things to engage my
attention."

"How fortunate!" she said mockingly, after a pause during which he had
time to realize that