me, and I let it go the way I supposed you wanted it. But I
'm not particularly stuck on your style, let me tell you, and I reckon
there 's plenty of ways for me to get along. Only first, I propose to
understand what your little game is. You don't throw down your hand
like that without some reason."

Hampton sat up, spurred into instant admiration by such independence of
spirit. "You grow rather good-looking, Kid, when you get hot, but you
go at things half-cocked, and you 've got to get over it. That's the
whole trouble--you 've never been trained, and I would n't make much of
a trainer for a high-strung filly like you. Ever remember your mother?"

"Mighty little; reckon she must have died when I was about five years
old. That's her picture."

Hampton took in his hand the old-fashioned locket she held out toward
him, the long chain still clasped about her throat, and pried open the
stiff catch with his knife blade. She bent down to fasten her loosened
shoe, and when her eyes were uplifted again his gaze was riveted upon
the face in the picture.

"Mighty pretty, wasn't she?" she asked with a sudden girlish interest,
bending forward to look, regardless of his strained attitude. "And she
was prettier than that even, the way I remember her best, with her hair
all hanging down, coming to tuck me into bed at night. Someway that's
how I always seem to see her."

The man drew a deep breath, and snapped shut the locket, yet still
retained it in his hand. "Is--is she dead?" he questioned, and his
voice trembled in spite of steel nerves.

"Yes, in St. Louis; dad took me there with him two years ago, and I saw
her grave."

"Dad? Do you mean old Gillis?"

She nodded, beginning dimly to wonder why he should speak so fiercely
and stare at her in that odd way. He seemed to choke twice before he
could ask the next question.

"Did he--old Gillis, I mean--claim to be your father, or her husband?"

"No, I don't reckon he ever did, but he gave me that picture, and told
me she was my mother. I always lived with him, and called him dad. I
reckon he liked it, and he was mighty good to me. We were at Randolph
a long time, and since then he's been post-trader at Bethune. That's
all I know about it, for dad never talked very much, and he used to get
mad when I asked him questions."

Hampton dropped the locket from his grasp, and arose to his feet. For
several minutes he stood with his back turned toward her, appare