for the first time, but her mouth twitched slightly.

"I am game enough," she said. "I suppose that goes with the breed--like
other things. Oh, yes, I am game enough to run true under punishment.
But as for marrying--I don't think so. I was in love once--or thought I
was."

"I didn't know about that," Angus said in surprise. "I'm sorry I said
anything."

"No, of course you didn't know. Nobody did--not even the man in the
case. He married another girl."

"He lost a mighty fine wife," Angus said.

"That's nice of you. But heaven knows what sort of wife I'd have made.
The girl he married will suit him better. And now I mustn't keep you,
Angus. Faith will be waiting. I won't see either of you again. She
hasn't much cause to love me or mine, but she has never shown it by word
or look. She is real, Angus, and I hope you will be very happy, both of
you, all through life. Some day--oh, a long time hence, when the things
that are so real and hard now have been dimmed and softened by the
years--I may see you both again. Till then--good-by."

Angus took her strong, firm hand in his, and looked into her somber
eyes.

"Good-by," he said, "and thank you for your good wishes. Good luck to
you and to Gavin. Tell him that. And remember that anything I can do at
any time for either you or him will be done cheerfully."

"I will remember," she said. "I wish you and Gavin had known each other
better. You would have been friends. You are both real men."

She knew nothing of Gavin's connection with his father's death, for that
was one of several things he had not told her. Another was that he had
lied to Bush. He had said that he had found no trace of Gavin. Kathleen
stood beside him as he mounted, and when, having ridden a few hundred
yards, he turned in the saddle and glanced back she was still standing
where he had left her, motionless.

But as the French ranch vanished from view Angus drew a long breath. It
was more than the relief from the performance of an unpleasant duty. A
chapter seemed to have closed, the old order of things ended, a new one
begun.

Already the shadows were falling, the hills purple black against the
west. Well, he would be home as fast as a good horse could carry him.
Turkey would have told Faith, and she would be waiting for him. He shook
the big, gaunted chestnut into a fast lope.

But at a sharp bend he met Faith, almost riding her down.

"Why, old girl!" he cried, while Chief's hoofs slid and g