reckon--" here he took a step toward her and
grinned significantly "that I'll make a rattlin' good substitute for
Willard."

She struck at him, blindly, savagely. She felt her open hand strike his
cheek, heard him curse, and then, in a daze she was running toward her
pony. She did not turn, but furiously raced the animal across the plains
toward the ranchhouse.

She was calmer when she reached the house, but went directly to her room,
where she changed her clothes and sat for a long time at one of the
windows, looking toward the river--and toward Lazette.

Downstairs, Uncle Jepson, who from a window of the bunkhouse had seen her
come in, had followed her into the house, to remark grumblingly to Aunt
Martha:

"Willard didn't meet her, drat him!"

Ruth passed a miserable night, thinking over Chavis' words. The man might
have been lying. Obviously, common fairness demanded that she tell Masten
of the circumstance. On one thing she was determined: that Chavis should
leave the ranch, whether he had lied to her or not. She would have
instructed Vickers to attend to that, but Vickers had gone again to Red
Rock on business, and would not return for two or three days. She would
wait until Vickers returned to discharge Chavis, but she must tell Masten
of the insult, for she yearned to see Chavis punished.

She waited until after breakfast the following morning, and then she
induced Masten to walk with her, under pretext of examining the flower
beds. Reaching them, she faced him fairly.

"Willard," she said, her lips white and stiff, "there must be no
double-dealing between you and me. Tom Chavis told me yesterday that you
are interested in a waitress in Lazette. Is that true?"

He started, flushed darkly, and then smiled blandly.

"Tom Chavis is romancing, my dear. If there is a waitress in Lazette I
have not seen her." He seized her by the shoulders and spoke earnestly.
"I am interested in Ruth Harkness, my dear. You surely don't believe such
a story, do you, Ruth?"

He looked at her so frankly that her jealousy took wings, and she blushed
and lowered her eyes. She raised them again, almost instantly, however;
they were glowing vindictively.

"Tom Chavis came to the box canyon at three yesterday afternoon," she
said firmly. "He insulted me. I want you to discharge him; Vickers is not
here to do it. And I do not want to see him again."

He pressed his lips together and avoided her gaze, and a slow red stole
into h