months earlier she had become the teacher of the Big Creek
school, but until that time life had never disciplined her to repress
the impulses of her heart. As a child she had been a fierce, wild
little creature full of savage affections and generosities. She still
retained more feminine ferocity than social usage permits her sex. It
was not in her to welcome an enemy with smiles while she hated him in
her soul. The best she could do was to hold herself to a brusque
civility whenever she met Beaudry.

As for that young man, he was in a most unhappy frame of mind. He
writhed at the false position in which he found himself. It was bad
enough to forfeit the good opinion of this primitive young hill beauty,
but it was worse to know that in a measure he deserved it. He saw,
too, that serious consequences were likely to follow her discovery, and
he waited with nerves on the jump for the explosion.

None came. When he dragged himself to dinner, Beulah was stiff as a
ramrod, but he could note no difference in the manner of the rest. Was
it possible she had not told her father? He did not think this likely,
and his heart was in panic all through the meal.

Though he went to his room early, he spent a sleepless night full of
apprehension. What were the Rutherfords waiting for? He was convinced
that something sinister lay behind their silence.

After breakfast the ranchman rode away. Jeff and Slim Sanders jogged
off on their cowponies to mend a broken bit of fence. Hal sat on the
porch replacing with rivets the torn strap of a stirrup.

Beaudry could stand it no longer. He found his hostess digging around
the roots of some rosebushes in her small garden. Curtly she declined
his offer to take the spade. For a minute he watched her uneasily
before he blurted out his intention of going.

"I'll move up to the other end of the park and talk windmill to the
ranchers there, Miss Rutherford. You've been awfully good to me, but I
won't impose myself on your hospitality any longer," he said.

He had dreaded to make the announcement for fear of precipitating a
crisis, but the young woman made no protest. Without a word of comment
she walked beside him to the house.

"Hal, will you get Mr. Street's horse?" she asked her brother. "He is
leaving this morning."

Young Rutherford's eyes narrowed. It was plain that he had been caught
by surprise and did not know what to do.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"What do