was not quite certain of the
impression he was creating in her mind.

That knowledge pleased Mary; it convinced her of his entire worthiness;
it gave her power over him--and that power thrilled her.

As her brother, he had been an interesting figure, though his manner
had repelled her. And she had been conscious of a subtle pleasure that
was not all sisterly when she had been near him. She knew, now, that
the sensation had been instinctive, and she wondered if she could have
felt toward her brother as she felt toward this man.

However, this new situation had removed the diffidence that had
affected her; their relations were less matter of fact and more
romantic, and she felt toward him as any woman feels who knows an
admirer pursues her--breathless with the wonder of it, but holding
aloof, tantalizing, whimsical, and uncertain of herself.

She looked at him challengingly, mockery in her eyes.

"So you came here because the Drifter told you there would be
trouble--and a woman. How perfectly delightful!"

He sensed her mood and responded to it.

"It's sure delightful. But it ain't unusual. I've always heard that
trouble will be lurkin' around where there's a woman."

"But you would not say that a woman is not worth the trouble she
causes?" she countered.

"A man is willin' to take her--trouble an' all," he responded, looking
straight at her.

"Yes--if he can get her!" she shot back at him.

"Mostly every woman gets married to a man. I've got as good a chance
as any other man."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're talkin' to me about it," he grinned. "If you wasn't
considerin' me you wouldn't argue with me about it; you'd turn me down
cold an' forget it."

"I suppose when a man is big and romantic-looking----"

"Oh, shucks, ma'am; you'll be havin' me gettin' a swelled head."

"He thinks that all he has to do is to look his best."

"I expect I've looked my worst since I've been here. I ain't had a
chance to do any moonin' at you."

"I don't like men that 'moon,'" she declared.

"That's the reason I didn't do it," he said.

She laughed. "Now, tell me," she asked, "how you got your name,
'Deal.' It had something to do with cards, I suppose?"

"With weight," he said, looking soberly at her. "When I was born my
dad looked at me sort of nonplussed. I was that big. 'There's a deal
of him,' he told my mother. An' the name stuck. That ain't a lot
mysterious."

"It was a convenient name