at he did object to was the
half-patronizing, wholly matter-of-fact tone of her, which seemed to
preclude any possibility of sentiment so far as she was concerned.
She always looked at him so frankly, with never a tinge of red in her
cheeks to betray that consciousness of sex which goes ever--say what
you like--with the love of a man and a maid.

He did not want her to call him "Billy Boy" in just that tone; it made
him feel small and ineffective and young--he who was eight or nine
years older than she! It put him down, so that he could not bring
himself to making actual love to her--and once or twice when he had
tried it, she took it as a great joke.

Still, it was good to have her there and to be friends. The absence of
the Pilgrim, who had gone East quite suddenly soon after the round-up
was over, and the generosity of the other fellows, who saw quite
plainly how it was--with Billy, at least--and forbore making any
advances on their own account, made the winter pass easily and left
Charming Billy in the spring not content, perhaps, but hopeful.

It was in the warm days of late April--the days which bring the birds
and the tender, young grass, when the air is soft and all outdoors
beckons one to come out and revel. On such a day Billy, stirred to an
indefinable elation because the world as he saw it then was altogether
good, crooned his pet song while he waited at the porch with Flora's
horse and his own. They were going to ride together because it was
Sunday and because, if the weather held to its past and present mood
of sweet serenity, he might feel impelled to start the wagons out
before the week was done; so that this might be their last Sunday ride
for nobody knew how long.

"Let's ride up the creek," she suggested when she was in the saddle.
"We haven't been up that way this spring. There's a trail, isn't
there?"

"Sure, there's a trail--but I don't know what shape it's in. I haven't
been over it myself for a month or so. We'll try it, but yuh won't
find much to see; it's all level creek-bottom for miles and kinda
monotonous to look at."

"Well, we'll go, anyway," she decided, and they turned their horses'
heads toward the west.

They had gone perhaps five or six miles and were thinking of turning
back, when Billy found cause to revise his statement that there was
nothing to see. There had been nothing when he rode this way before,
but now, when they turned to follow a bend in the creek and in the
tra