a Duchess novel. Another minute, and I'd have run over her, I guess.
She stopped and looked at me from under lashes so thick and heavy they
seemed almost pulling her lids shut, and there was something in her eyes
that made me go hot and cold, like I was coming down with grippe; when she
spoke my symptoms grew worse.

"Did you wish to see father?" she asked, as if she were telling me to
leave the place.

"I believe," I rallied enough to answer, "that 'father' would give a good
deal to see _me_." Then that seemed to shut off our conversation too
abruptly to suit me; there are occasions when prickly chills have a
horrible fascination for a fellow; this was one of the times.

"He's not at home, I'm very sorry to say," she retorted in the same
liquid-air voice as before, and turned to go back to the house.

I thanked the Lord for that, in a whisper, and kept pace with her. It was
plain she hated the sight of me, but I counted on her being enough like
her dad not to run away.

"May I trouble you for a drink of water?" I asked, in the orthodox tone of
humility.

"There is no need to trouble me; there is the creek, beyond the house; you
are welcome to all you want."

"Thanks." I watched the pink curve of her cheek, and knew she was dying
for a chance to snub me still more maliciously. We were at the steps of
the veranda now, but still she would not hurry; she seemed to hate even
the semblance of running away.

"Can you direct me to the Bay State Ranch?" I hazarded. It was my last
card, and I let it go with a sigh.

She pointed a slim, scornful finger at the brand on Shylock's shoulder.

"If you are in doubt of the way, Mr. Carleton, your horse will take you
home--if you give him his head."

That put a crimp in me worse than the look of her eyes, even. I stared at
her a minute, and then laughed right out. "The game's yours, Miss King,
and I take off my hat to you for hitting straight and hard," I said. "Must
the feud descend even to the second generation? Is it a fight to the
finish, and no quarter asked or given?"

I had her going then. She blushed--and when I saw the red creep into her
cheeks my heart was hardened to repentance. I'd have done it again for the
pleasure of seeing her that way.

"You are taking a good deal for granted, sir," she said, in her loftiest
tone. "We Kings scarcely consider the Carletons worthy our weapons."

"You don't, eh? Then, why did you begin it?" I wanted to know. "If you
permit