"Quit that!" he cried. "Ke'p your durned hands to yourself," he added,
with a strange hoarseness.

Pete's eyes lit angrily.

"Eh? What's amiss?" he demanded. "Guess I ain't no disease."

Beasley chuckled across at him, and the sound of his mirth infuriated
Buck. He understood the laugh and the meaning underlying it.

"Buck turned wet nurse," cried the ex-Churchman, as he beheld the
sudden flush on the youngster's face.

"You can ke'p your durned talk," Buck cried. "You Beasley--and the lot
of you," he went on recklessly. "She's no ord'nary gal; she's--she's a
lady."

Curly and Ike nodded agreement.

But Beasley, whatever his fears of the storm, understood the men of
his world. Nor had he any fear of them, and Buck's threat only had the
effect of rousing the worst side of his nature, at all times very near
the surface.

"Lady? Psha'! Write her down a woman, they're all the same, only
dressed different. Seems to me it's better they're all just women. An'
Pete's good enough for any woman, eh, Pete? She's just a nice, dandy
bit o' soft flesh an' blood, eh, Pete? Guess you like them sort, eh,
Pete?"

The man's laugh was a hideous thing to listen to, but Pete was not
listening. Buck heard, and his dark face went ghastly pale, even
though his eyes were fixed on the beautiful face with its closed,
heavily-lashed eyes. Pete's attention was held by the delicate
contours of her perfect figure and the gaping, bedraggled white
shirt-waist, where the soft flesh of her fair bosom showed through,
and the delicate lace and ribbons of her undergarments were left in
full view.

No one offered Beasley encouragement and his laugh fell flat. And when
Curly spoke it was to express something of the general thought.

"Wonder how she came here?" he said thoughtfully.

"Seems as though the storm had kind o' dumped her down," Abe Allinson
admitted.

Again Beasley chuckled.

"Say, was ther' ever such a miracle o' foolishness as you fellers? You
make me laff--or tired, or something. Wher'd she come from? Ain't the
Padre sold his farm?" he demanded, turning on Buck. "Ain't he sold it
to a woman? An' ain't he expectin' her along?"

Buck withdrew his eyes from the beautiful face, and looked up in
answer to the challenge.

"Why, yes," he said, his look suddenly hardening as he confronted
Beasley's face. "I had forgotten. This must surely be Miss--Miss Rest.
That's the name Mrs. Ransford, the old woman at the farm, said. Rest."
He