t yet concluded, and that possibly, two
weeks more would elapse before he would be able to visit the Flying W.

Had Randerson, standing near the chuck wagon on the night of the shooting
of Kelso, known what effect the news would have on Ruth? "I reckon she
would have wanted it different," he had reflected, then. And he had been
entirely correct, for the news had destroyed something that had been
growing and flourishing in her heart. It had filled her soul with
disappointment, at least; repugnance and loathing were not very far away.
She had almost been persuaded, that day when he had taught her how to use
the pistol. The killing of Pickett had grown dim and distant in her
mental vision; Randerson had become a compelling figure that dominated
her thoughts. But this second killing! She could no longer interpret the
steady, serene gleam in his eyes as mild confidence and frank directness;
as she saw them now they reflected hypocrisy--the cold, designing cunning
of the habitual taker of human life.

She had been very near to making a mistake; she had almost yielded to the
lure of the romance that had seemed to surround him; the magnetic
personality of him had attracted her. He attracted her no longer--her
heart was shut to him. And, during the days of Masten's continuing
absence--in the times when she reflected on her feelings toward Randerson
on the day he had taught her the use of the pistol, she bitterly
reproached herself for her momentary lack of loyalty to the Easterner.
She had been weak for an instant--as life is measured--and she would make
it up to Masten--by ceasing to be irritated by his moods, through paying
no attention to his faults, which, she now saw, were infinitely less
grave than those of the man who had impressed her for an instant--and by
yielding to his suggestion that she marry him before the fall round-up.

In these days, too, she seriously thought of discharging Randerson, for
he had not ridden in to report the killing and to offer a defense for it,
but she remembered Vickers' words: "Randerson is square," and she
supposed that all cowboys were alike, and would shoot--to kill--if they
considered their provocation to be great enough.

But these thoughts did not occupy all of her time. She found
opportunities to ride and sew and talk--the latter mostly with Aunt
Martha and Uncle Jepson. And she kept making her visits to Hagar
Catherson.

Of late Ruth had noticed a change in the girl's manner. She