ained? Manifestly it was a gift. She
argued that she was highly incensed with this insolent Isbel who had
the effrontery to approach her with some sort of present.

It developed that the usually cheerful Antonio had returned taciturn
and gloomy. All Ellen could get out of him was that the job of sheep
herder had taken on hazards inimical to peace-loving Mexicans. He had
heard something he would not tell. Ellen helped prepare the supper and
she ate in silence. She had her own brooding troubles. Antonio
presently told her that her father had said she was not to start back
home after dark. After supper the herders repaired to their own tents,
leaving Ellen the freedom of her camp-fire. Wherewith she secured the
package and brought it forth to burn. Feminine curiosity rankled
strong in her breast. Yielding so far as to shake the parcel and press
it, and finally tear a comer off the paper, she saw some words written
in lead pencil. Bending nearer the blaze, she read, "For my sister
Ann." Ellen gazed at the big, bold hand-writing, quite legible and
fairly well done. Suddenly she tore the outside wrapper completely
off. From printed words on the inside she gathered that the package
had come from a store in San Francisco. "Reckon he fetched home a lot
of presents for his folks--the kids--and his sister," muttered Ellen.
"That was nice of him. Whatever this is he shore meant it for sister
Ann.... Ann Isbel. Why, she must be that black-eyed girl I met and
liked so well before I knew she was an Isbel.... His sister!"

Whereupon for the second time Ellen deposited the fascinating package
in her tent. She could not burn it up just then. She had other
emotions besides scorn and hate. And memory of that soft-voiced,
kind-hearted, beautiful Isbel girl checked her resentment. "I wonder
if he is like his sister," she said, thoughtfully. It appeared to be
an unfortunate thought. Jean Isbel certainly resembled his sister.
"Too bad they belong to the family that ruined dad."

Ellen went to bed without opening the package or without burning it.
And to her annoyance, whatever way she lay she appeared to touch this
strange package. There was not much room in the little tent. First
she put it at her head beside her rifle, but when she turned over her
cheek came in contact with it. Then she felt as if she had been stung.
She moved it again, only to touch it presently with her hand. Next she
flung it to the bottom of