ity. She ended, however, by looking a
good bit confused, and by blushing scarlet. I had won that far. I kept her
hand held tight in mine; I could feel it squirm to get away, and it
felt--oh, thunder!

"Let's play something else," she said, after a long minute. "I--I never
did admire highwaymen particularly, and I must go home."

"No, you mustn't," I contradicted. "You must--"

She looked at me with those wonderful, heavy-lashed eyes, and her lips had
a little quiver as if--Oh, I don't know, but I let go her hand, and I felt
like a great, hulking brute that had been teasing a child till it cried.

"All right," I sighed, "I'll let you go this time. But I warn you, little
girl. If--no, _when_ I find you out from King's Highway by yourself again,
that kidnaping is sure going to come off. The Lord intended you to be Mrs.
Ellis Carleton. And forty feuds and forty fathers can't prevent it.
I don't believe in going against the decrees of Providence; a _wise_
Providence."

She bit her lip at the corner. "You must have a little private Providence
of your own," she retorted, with something like her old assurance. "I'm
sure mine never hinted at such a--a fate for me. And one feud is as good
as forty, Mr. Carleton. If you are anything like your father, I can easily
understand how the feud began. The Kings and the Carletons are fond of
their own way."

"Thy way shall be my way," I promised rashly, just because it sounded
smart.

"Thank you. Then there will be no melodramatic abductions in the shadow of
White Divide," she laughed triumphantly, "and I shall escape a most
horrible fate!" She went, still laughing, down to where her horse was
waiting.

I followed--rather, I kept pace with her. "All the same, I dare you to
ride out alone from King's Highway again," I defied. "For, if you do, and
I find you--"

"Good-by, Mr. Carleton. You'd be splendid in vaudeville," she mocked from
her saddle, where she had got with all the ease of a cowboy, without any
help from me. "Black velvet mask and gadzooks, madam--I must certainly
tell Edith. It will amuse her, I'm sure."

"No, you won't tell Edith," I flung after her, but I don't know if she
heard.

She rode away down the steep slope, the roan leaning back stiffly against
the incline, and I stood watching her like a fool. I didn't think it would
be good policy to follow her. I tried to roll a cigarette--in case she
might look back to see how I was taking her last shot. But she didn