know how to say what was in her mind. She
had an instinctive feeling that the way to meet trouble was to face it
unafraid and not to run away from it. "I don't reckon we'd better show
Jake we're scared of him--now. O' course he'll be mad at first, but he's
got no right to be. Jes' 'cause he kep' a-pesterin' me don't give him no
claim on me."

"No, but you know what he is an' how he acts."

"I'll go where you want to go. I jes' thought, seein' how good to us Mrs.
Gillespie has been, that maybe--"

"Well, we'll talk it over after supper," Bob said. "I'm for lighting out
myself. To Laramie or Cheyenne, say."

As they had not eaten since breakfast they were a pair of hungry young
animals. They did full justice to the steak, French frys, mince pie, and
coffee Mrs. Gillespie had promised.

They hung for a moment awkwardly outside the dining-room. Both of them
were looking for an excuse to avoid returning to their room yet.

"Like to look the town over?" Bob asked.

June accepted eagerly.

They walked up the single business street and looked in the windows. The
young husband bought his bride a paper sack of chocolates and they ate
them as they strolled. Somehow they did not feel half as shy of each
other in the open as when shut up together between the walls of a
bedroom.

Dusk was beginning to fall. It veiled the crude and callow aspects of the
frontier town and filled the hollows of the surrounding hills with a soft
violet haze.

Bob's eyes met the dark orbs of June. Between them some communication
flashed. For the first time a queer emotion clutched at the boy's heart.
An intoxicating thrill pulsed through his veins. She was his wife, this
shy girl so flushed and tender.

His hand caught hers and gave it a little comforting pressure. It was his
first love gesture and it warmed her like wine.

"You're right good to me," she murmured.

She was grateful for so little. All her life she had been starved for
love and friendship just as he had. Bob resolved to give them to her in a
flood. A great tide of sympathy flowed out from him to her. He would be
good to her. He wished she knew now how well he meant to look after her.
But he could not tell her. A queer shame tied his tongue.

From a blacksmith shop a man stepped.

"Say, fellow, can I see you a minute?" he asked.

It was Dud Hollister. He drew Bob back into the smithy.

"Big guy in town lookin' for you. He's tankin' up. You heeled?"

Bob felt as though