"Let's meet without knowin' any more about each other than we do now."

"Shore. I'd like that. In this big wild Arizona a girl--an' I reckon
a man--feels so insignificant. What's a name, anyhow? Still, people
an' things have to be distinguished. I'll call y'u 'Stranger' an' be
satisfied--if y'u say it's fair for y'u not to tell who y'u are."

"Fair! No, it's not," declared Jean, forced to confession. "My name's
Jean--Jean Isbel."

"ISBEL!" she exclaimed, with a violent start. "Shore y'u can't be son
of old Gass Isbel.... I've seen both his sons."

"He has three," replied Jean, with relief, now the secret was out. "I'm
the youngest. I'm twenty-four. Never been out of Oregon till now. On
my way--"

The brown color slowly faded out of her face, leaving her quite pale,
with eyes that began to blaze. The suppleness of her seemed to stiffen.

"My name's Ellen Jorth," she burst out, passionately. "Does it mean
anythin' to y'u?"

"Never heard it in my life," protested Jean. "Sure I reckoned you
belonged to the sheep raisers who 're on the outs with my father.
That's why I had to tell you I'm Jean Isbel.... Ellen Jorth. It's
strange an' pretty.... Reckon I can be just as good a--a friend to
you--"

"No Isbel, can ever be a friend to me," she said, with bitter coldness.
Stripped of her ease and her soft wistfulness, she stood before him one
instant, entirely another girl, a hostile enemy. Then she wheeled and
strode off into the woods.

Jean, in amaze, in consternation, watched her swiftly draw away with
her lithe, free step, wanting to follow her, wanting to call to her;
but the resentment roused by her suddenly avowed hostility held him
mute in his tracks. He watched her disappear, and when the
brown-and-green wall of forest swallowed the slender gray form he
fought against the insistent desire to follow her, and fought in vain.

CHAPTER II

But Ellen Jorth's moccasined feet did not leave a distinguishable trail
on the springy pine needle covering of the ground, and Jean could not
find any trace of her.

A little futile searching to and fro cooled his impulse and called
pride to his rescue. Returning to his horse, he mounted, rode out
behind the pack mule to start it along, and soon felt the relief of
decision and action. Clumps of small pines grew thickly in spots on
the Rim, making it necessary for him to skirt them; at which times he
lost sight of the purple basin. Every time he came bac