real home, kid, frame house with plastered walls
an' shingled roof, painted red an' yeller. All what I want now air my
woman, an' I've come fer ye, Tess."

The girl's heart sank. She glanced about helplessly. What could she say
or do? There was no other human being within call. In hasty
retrospection, her mind swept back to Ben Letts. She shuddered as she
remembered the many times he'd made the same demand upon her. And then,
she as suddenly remembered how, during those days, she had been saved
from men like Ben and Sandy, and courage came again in response to her
silent call for help.

"Ye heard what I said, brat, didn't ye?" demanded Sandy, leaning back
and throwing one leg over the other. "I air here fer ye."

"Yes, I heard."

"An' ye're comin', ain't ye, kid?" ... His voice was deep and persuasive
by reason of the passion that surged through him.... "I air a little
sorry fer bein' mean to ye afore, brat, an' now I air rich ye can
forgive it, can't ye?"

He bent forward and held out his heavy hands, palms up, ingratiatingly.

"Yes, I forgive you, Sandy, certainly. But--but--"

"Now, there ain't no 'buts' in this matter, kid! Ye said as how ye'd
marry me when I got Andy's reward money. Now I got it ye got to keep yer
word."

Tessibel shook her head.

"I didn't say I'd marry you," she answered. "I said, away back there,
when I was only a little kid, you could come back and ask me again. But
I'm a woman, now, and I'm never going to marry anyone."

The squatter leaned his elbows on his knees, cupped his white face in
his hands, and glared at the girl steadily.

"Ye're goin' to git married to me today," he growled. "Ye can't play
fast and loose with me, kid, an' don't ye think ye can, uther. Get on
yer togs. I air goin' to give ye the time of yer life."

Tessibel stood very still. She could hear plainly, through the silence,
the lap of the waves on the shore below, and the soft chug-chug of a
lake steamer. A bee flew in at the door, lighted on the lace curtain and
clung there, making sprawly motions with his thread-like legs. She
remembered without effort the day the squatter alluded to--remembered
also Daddy Skinner's telling him to go. Perhaps he _had_ thought she
meant to marry him if he were rich.

"Sandy," she said, dragging her eyes to the man's face. "When I tell you
I can't marry you, I mean it. Please don't ask me any more.... Would you
like a piece of cake?"

"Cake?..." snarled Letts. "Hell! W