hat
buzzard up there will be pullin' his freight--if he's got any sense."

She fired again, her lips compressed determinedly. At the report a
splinter of wood flew from the top of the post. She looked at him with an
exultant smile.

"That's better," he told her, grinning; "you'll be hittin' the soap box,
next."

She did hit it at the fourth attempt, and her joy was great.

For an hour she practiced, using many cartridges, reveling in this new
pastime. She hit the target often, and toward the end she gained such
confidence and proficiency that her eyes glowed proudly. Then, growing
tired, she invited him to the porch again, and until near noon they
talked of guns and shooting.

Her interest in him had grown. His interest in her had always been deep,
and the constraint that had been between them no longer existed.

At noon she went into the house and prepared luncheon, leaving him
sitting on the porch alone. When she called Randerson in, and he took a
chair across from her, she felt a distinct embarrassment. It was not
because she was there alone with him, for he had a right to be there; he
was her range boss and his quarters were in the house; he was an
employee, and no conventions were being violated. But the embarrassment
was there.

Did Randerson suspect her interest in him? That question assailed her.
She studied him, and was uncertain. For his manner had not changed. He
was still quiet, thoughtful, polite, still deferential and natural, with
a quaintness of speech and a simplicity that had gripped her, that held
her captive.

But her embarrassment fled as the meal progressed. She forgot it in her
interest for him. She questioned him again; he answered frankly. And
through her questions she learned much of his past life, of his hopes and
ambitions. They were as simple and natural as himself.

"I've been savin' my money, ma'am," he told her. "I'm goin' to own a
ranch of my own, some day. There's fellows that blow in all their wages
in town, not thinkin' of tomorrow. But I quit that, quite a while ago.
I'm lookin' out for tomorrow. It's curious, ma'am. Fellows will try to
get you to squander your money, along with their own, an' if you don't,
they'll poke fun at you. But they'll respect you for not squanderin' it,
like they do. I reckon they know there ain't any sense to it." Thus she
discovered that there was little frivolity in his make-up, and pleasure
stirred her. And then he showed her another side of h