wanted him to
explain the proposed system of irrigation.

"It is desperately hard to get any information out of Williams," she
told Sanderson; "he simply won't talk about the work."

"Meanin' that he'll talk rapid enough about other things, eh?"
Sanderson returned. He looked slyly at Mary.

"What other things are there for him to talk about?"

"A man could find a heap of things to talk about--to a woman. He might
talk about himself--or the woman," suggested Sanderson, grinning.

She gave him a knowing look. "Oh," she said, reddening. "Yes," she
added, smiling faintly, "now that you speak of it, I remember he did
talk quite a little. He is a very interesting man."

"Good-looking too," said Sanderson; "an' smart. He saw the prospects
of this thing right off."

"Didn't you see them?" she questioned quickly.

"Oh, that," he said, flushing. "If the Drifter hadn't told me mebbe I
wouldn't have seen."

"You have always been around cattle, I suppose?" she asked.

"Raised with them," smiled Sanderson.

Thus she directed the conversation to the subject about which she had
wanted to inquire--his past life. Her questions were clever; they were
suggestions to which he could do nothing except to return direct
replies. And she got out of him much of his history, discovering that
he had sound moral views, and a philosophy of which the salient
principle was the scriptural injunction: "Do unto others as ye would
that others should do unto you."

Upon that principle he had founded his character. His reputation had
grown out of an adamantine adherence to it. Looking at him now she
felt the strength of him, his intense devotion to his ideals; the
earnestness of him.

Curiously, she had felt those things during the time she had thought of
him as her brother, and had been conscious of the lure of him. It gave
her a queer thrill to stand beside him now, knowing that she had kissed
him; that he had had an opportunity to take advantage of the situation,
and had not done so.

He had acted the gentleman; he was a gentleman. That was why she was
able to talk with him now. If he had not treated her as he had treated
her his presence at the Double A would have been intolerable.

There was deep respect for women in Sanderson, she knew. Also, despite
his bold, frank glances--which was merely the manhood of him
challenging her and taking note of her charms--there was a hesitating
bashfulness about the man, as though he