h you,
particularly."

"Oh, well, that's easily fixed," he said. "It's a nice night," he added,
looking up appreciatively at the brightening star-sprinkle. "Are you
living on your claim now? We can talk particularly on the way over."

Miss Allen laughed and groped for a few loose hairs, found them and
tucked them carefully under her hatcrown. Andy remembered that gesture;
it helped him to visualize her clearly in spite of the deepening night.

"How far have you ridden today, Mr. Green?" she asked irrelevantly.

"Since daylight, you mean? Not so very far counting miles--We were
trailing a herd, you see. But I've been in the saddle since sunrise,
except when I was eating."

"Then you want a cup of coffee, before you ride any farther. If I get
down, will you let me make it or you? I'd love to. I'm crazy to see
inside your cabin, but I only rode up and tried to peek in the window
before you came. I have two brothers and a cousin, so I understand men
pretty well and I know you can talk better when you aren't hungry."

"Are you living on your claim?" he asked again, without moving.

"Why, yes. We moved in last week."

"Well, we'll ride over, then, and you can make coffee there. I'm not
hungry right now."

"Oh." She leaned again and peered at him, trying to read his face. "You
don't WANT me to go in!"

"Yes, I do--but I don't. If you stayed and made coffee, tomorrow you'd
be kicking yourself for it, and you'd be blaming me." Which, considering
the life he had lived, almost wholly among men, was rather astute of
Andy Green.

"Oh." Then she laughed. "You must have some sisters, Mr. Green." She was
silent for a minute, looking at him. "You're right," she said quietly
then. "I'm always making a fool of myself, just on the impulse of the
moment. The girls will be worried about me, as it is. But I don't want
you to ride any farther, Mr. Green. What I came to say need not take
very long, and I think I can find my way home alone, all right."

"I'll take you home when you're ready to go," said Andy quietly. All at
once he had wanted to shield her, to protect her from even so slight an
unconventionality as making his coffee for him. He had felt averse to
putting her at odds with her conventional self, of inviting unfavorable
criticism of himself; dimly, because instinct rather than cold analysis
impelled him. What he had told her was the sum total of his formulated
ideas.

"Well, I'm ready to go now, since you insist on