nted upon to shed furtive tears.

Al Woodruff, however, did not love her. His eyes had once or twice
softened to friendliness, but love was not there. Neither was repentance
there. He seemed quite satisfied with himself, quite ready to commit
further crimes for sake of his own safety or desire. He was hard, she
decided, but he was not unnecessarily harsh; cruel, without being
wantonly brutal. He was, in short, the strangest man she had ever seen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"OH, I COULD KILL YOU!"

Before sundown they reached the timberland on Bear Top. The horses
slipped on the pine needles when Al left the trail and rode up a gentle
incline where the trees grew large and there was little underbrush. It
was very beautiful, with the slanting sun-rays painting broad yellow
bars across the gloom of the forest. In a little while they reached the
crest of that slope, and Lorraine, looking back, could only guess at
where the trail wound on among the trees lower down.

Birds called companionably from the high branches above them. A nesting
grouse flew chuttering out from under a juniper bush, alighted a short
distance away and went limping and dragging one wing before them,
cheeping piteously.

While Lorraine was wondering if the poor thing had hurt a leg in
lighting, Al clipped its head off neatly with a bullet from his
six-shooter, though Lorraine had not seen him pull the gun and did not
know he meant to shoot. The bird's mate whirred up and away through the
trees, and Lorraine was glad that it had escaped.

Al slid the gun back into his holster, leaned from his saddle and picked
up the dead grouse as unconcernedly as he would have dismounted, pulled
his knife from his boot and drew the bird neatly, flinging the crop and
entrails from him.

"Them juniper berries tastes the meat if you don't clean 'em out right
away," he remarked casually to Lorraine, as he wiped the knife on his
trousers and thrust it back into the boot-scabbard before he tied the
grouse to the saddle by its blue, scaley little feet.

When he was ready to go on, Snake refused to budge. Tough as he was, he
had at last reached the limit of his energy and ambition. Al yanked hard
on the bridle reins, then rode back and struck him sharply with his
quirt before Snake would rouse himself enough to move forward. He went
stiffly, reluctantly, pulling back until his head was held straight out
before him. Al dragged him so for a rod or two, lost patience