him.

"Indeed!" she said. "I presume I am to take that as a compliment?"

"But you will be a fool if you cotton up to Neal Taggart," he
continued, paying no attention to her question. "I know men.
Taggart's a no good fourflusher, an' no woman can be anything if she
takes up with him."

She looked at him with a dazzling smile. In the smile were those
qualities that he had noticed during his other conversations with her
when he had accused her of meeting Taggart secretly--mirth, tempered
with doubt. Also, just now there was enjoyment.

"I feel flattered to think that you are taking that much interest in
me," she said. "But when I am in need of someone to lay down rules of
conduct for me I shall let you know. At present I feel quite competent
to take care of myself. But if you are very much worried, I don't mind
telling you that I have not 'cottoned up' to Neal Taggart."

"What you meetin' him for, then?" he asked suspiciously.

"I have not met Neal Taggart since the day you made him apologize to
me," she said slowly.

"Who are you meetin', then?" he demanded.

She looked straight at him. "I cannot answer that," she said.

His lips curled with disbelief, and her cheeks flushed a little.

"Can't you trust anybody?" she said.

"Why," she continued as he kept silent, "don't you think that if I had
intended, as you said once before, to cheat you, to take _anything_
that belongs to you, that I could have done so long ago? I had the
diagram; I could have kept the idol, the money, the ranch. What could
you have done; what could you do now? Don't you think it is about time
for you to realize that you are hurting no one but yourself by
harboring such black, dismal thoughts. Nobody is trying to cheat
you--except probably the Taggarts. Everybody here is trying their best
to be friendly to you, trying to aid in making those reforms which your
father mentioned. Dade likes you; Bob loves you. And even my
grandfather said the other day that you are not a bad fellow. You have
been making progress, more than I expected you to make. But you must
make more."

The mirth had died out of her eyes; she was deeply in earnest. Calumet
could see that, and the knowledge kept him silent, hushed the
half-formed sarcastic replies that were on his lips, made his
suspicions seem brutal, preposterous, ridiculous. There was much
feeling in her voice; he was astonished and awed at the change in her;
he had not seen her like