t seen him for hours.

Hilarious laughter reached her, busy in the kitchen, but it did not
banish the peculiar uneasiness that afflicted her. And some time later,
when the laughter ceased and she went to the window and looked out, the
cowboys had vanished. They had gone in to dinner. But Chavis and Pickett
still sat on their bench, talking. Ruth shivered and turned from the
window.

She was in better spirits shortly after dinner, and went out to the
stable to look at her pony. Because of the coming of the _remuda_ she had
thought it best to take her pony from the corral, for she feared that in
company with the other horses her own animal would return to those
ungentle habits which she disliked.

She fed it from some grain in a bin, carried some water in a pail from
the trough at the windmill, and stood at the pony's head for some time,
watching it. Just as she was about to turn to leave the stable, she felt
the interior darken, and she wheeled quickly to see that the door had
closed, and that Jim Pickett stood before it, grinning at her.

For a moment her knees shook, for she could not fail to interpret the
expression of his face, then she heard a gale of laughter from the
direction of the bunkhouse, and felt reassured. But while she stood, she
heard the sounds of the laughter growing gradually indistinct and
distant, and she gulped hard. For she knew that the cowboys were riding
away--no doubt to join the herd.

She pretended to be interested in the pony, and stroked its mane with a
hand that trembled, delaying to move in the hope that she might be
mistaken in her fears and that Pickett would go away. But Pickett did not
move. Glancing at him furtively, she saw that the grin was still on his
face and that he was watching her narrowly. Then, finding that he seemed
determined to stay, she pretended unconcern and faced him, meeting his
gaze fearlessly.

"Is there something that you wanted to talk to me about, Pickett?" she
questioned.

"Yes, ma'am," he said respectfully, though his voice seemed slightly
hoarse, "I've got a letter here which I want you to read to me--I just
can't sorta make out the writin'."

She almost sighed with relief. Leaving the stall she went to Pickett's
side and took from his hand a paper that he held out to her. And now, in
her relief over her discovery that his intentions were not evil, it
suddenly dawned on her that she had forgotten that the door was closed.

"It is dark here," she