xious to do. As
the result of this, he expected to get such a hold upon the Range that
he would be master of the situation when the property fell into the
hands of Wyllard's trustees. That Hawtrey would be disgraced as well
as ruined naturally did not count with him.

The latter took up one of the papers, and read it through with
vacillation in his eyes. Then he rose, and stood leaning on the table
while he gazed at the teams toiling amidst the grain. There was wealth
enough yonder to release him from his torturing anxieties, and after
all, he felt, something must turn up before the reckoning was due. It
was not in his nature to face a crisis, and with him a trouble seemed
less formidable if it could only be put off a little. Edmonds, who
knew with what kind of man he had to deal, said nothing further, and
quietly reached out for another cigar.

In the meanwhile, though neither of the men were aware of this, Sally
had just got down from her waggon on the other side of the house, and
another couple of teams were already growing larger upon the sweep of
whitened prairie. As she entered the homestead she met Mrs. Nansen,
and the latter informed her that Hawtrey was busy with Edmonds in
Wyllard's room. Sally's eyes sparkled when she heard it, and her face
grew hard.

"That man!" she said. "Well, I guess I'll go right in to them."

In another minute she opened the door, and answered the mortgage
jobber's somewhat embarrassed greeting with a frigid stare. Having
some experience of Sally's uncompromising directness, he was inclined
to fancy that the game was up, but he said nothing further, and she
fixed her eyes on Hawtrey.

"What's this man doing here again?" she asked. "You promised me you
would never make another deal with him."

Hawtrey flushed. Had he fancied it would have been the least use he
would have made some attempt to get Sally out of the room, but he was
unpleasantly sure that unless she was fully satisfied first it would
only result in failure. Besides, driven to desperation, as he was, he
had a half-conscious feeling that she might provide him with some means
of escape. Sally had certainly saved him once already, and,
humiliating as it was, he fancied that she did not expect too much from
him. She might be very angry, but Sally's anger was, after all, less
difficult to face than Agatha's quiet scorn.

"I haven't made another deal. It's--a previous one," he said lamely.

Sally swung ro