in the world has got into her of late," she wondered, as
she proceeded on her way. Certain it was that the girl avoided her,
not only at the Watts ranch, but whenever they had chanced to meet in
the hills. At first she had attributed it to anger or resentment over
her own treatment of her when she had tried to get possession of the
map. But, surely, even the dull-witted Microby must know that the
incident had been forgotten. "No," she decided, "there is something
else." Somehow, the girl no longer seemed the simple child-like
creature of the wild. There was a furtiveness about her, and she had
developed a certain crafty side glance, as though constantly seeking a
means of escape from something. Her mother had noticed the change,
and had confided to Patty that she was "gittin' mo' triflin' every
day, a-rammin' 'round the hills a-huntin' her a mine." "There's
something worrying her," muttered the girl. "Something that she don't
dare tell anyone, and it's sapping what little wit she has."

It was late that evening when Patty ate her solitary supper. The sun
had long set, and the dusk of the late twilight had settled upon the
valley of Monte's Creek as she wiped the last dish and set it upon the
shelf of her tiny cupboard. Suddenly she looked up. A form darkened
the doorway, and quick as a flash, her eyes sought the six-gun that
lay in its holster upon the bunk.

"You won't need that." The voice was reassuring. It was Vil Holland's
voice; she had recognized him a second before he spoke and greeted him
with a smile, even as she wondered what had brought him there. Only
three times before had he come to her cabin, once to ascertain who was
moving into the sheep camp, once when he had pitched Lord Clendenning
into the creek, and again, only a few days before, when he had come to
teach her to shoot. The girl noted that he seemed graver than usual,
if that were possible. Certain it was that he appeared to be holding
himself under restraint. She wondered if he had come to warn her of
the proximity of Bethune.

"I was in town, to-day," he came directly to the point. "An' Len
Christie told me you're goin' to teach school." He paused and his eyes
rested upon her face as if seeking confirmation.

Patty laughed; she could afford to laugh, now that the necessity for
teaching did not exist. "I asked him if he could find a school for me
sometime ago," she replied, trying to fathom what was in his mind.

There was a moment of silenc