ped in
some unlooked-for manner little short of miraculous. As a result, he had
come to cherish a superstitious belief that he bore a charmed life, that
no real harm could come to him. So he courted each woman according to her
nature as he read it, and waited blindly for success.

IX

SPEAKING OF GRASSHOPPERS----

It was Saturday, and, there being no school, both Susie and Dora were at
home. Ralston was considering in which direction he should ride that day
when Susie came to him and after saying to Smith with elaborate
politeness, "Excuse me, Mr. Smith, for whispering, but I have something
very private and confidential to say to Mr. Ralston," she shielded her
mouth with her hand and said:

"Teacher and I are going fishing. We are going up on the side-hill now to
catch grasshoppers for bait, and I thought maybe you'd like to help, and
to fish with us this afternoon." She tittered in his ear.

Susie's action conveyed two things to Ralston's mind: first, that he had
not been so clever as he had supposed in dissembling his feelings; and
second, that Susie, recognizing them, was disposed to render him friendly
aid.

Smith noted Ralston's brightening eye with suspicion, jumping to the very
natural conclusion that only some pleasing information concerning the
Schoolmarm would account for it. When, a few minutes later, he saw the
three starting away together, each with a tin or pasteboard box, he
realized that his surmise was correct.

Glowering, Smith walked restlessly about the house, ignoring the Indian
woman's inquiring, wistful eyes, cursing to himself as he wandered through
the corrals and stables, hating with a personal hatred everything which
belonged to Ralston: his gentle-eyed brown mare; his expensive Navajo
saddle-blanket; his single-rigged saddle; his bridle with the wide cheek
pieces and the hand-forged bit. It would have been a satisfaction to
destroy them all. He hated particularly the little brown mare which
Ralston brushed with such care each morning. Smith's mood was black
indeed.

But Ralston, as he walked between Dora and Susie to the side-hill where
the first grasshoppers of spring were always found, felt at peace with all
the world--even Smith--and it was in his heart to hug the elfish
half-breed child as she skipped beside him. Dora's frequent, bubbling
laughter made him thrill; he longed to shout aloud like a schoolboy given
an unexpected holiday.

Each time that his eyes sought Dor