rance of sun-warmed pine that the night had stolen
from the slumbering woodlands. She slipped her foot in the wide stirrup.
Half laughing, she allowed him to draw her up. She felt the hard
strength of his arm, and was thrilled. She had not meant to do anything
like this.

"You been playin' with me," he told her, whispering, "and I take my
pay."

She turned her face away, but he found her lips and crushed her to him.

"Oh!" she whispered as he kissed her again and again.

Slowly his arm relaxed. White-faced and trembling, she slid to the
ground and stood looking up at him.

"I hate you!" she said.

"No, you don't," said Lorry quite cheerfully.

And he reached out his hand as though to take her hand again.

She stood still, making no effort to avoid him. Then--"No, please!" she
begged.

Lorry sat for a moment looking down at her. There had been no
make-believe on her part when he held her in his arms. He knew that. And
now? She had said that she hated him. Perhaps she did for having made
her do that which she had never dreamed of doing. But he told himself
that he could stand a whole lot of that kind of hate. And did he really
care for her? Could a girl give what she had given and forget on the
morrow? He would never forget.

She had told herself that he should have reason to remember her.

After he had gone she stood gazing across the starlit mesa. She heard
Lorry whistling cheerily as he unsaddled his pony. A falling star flamed
and faded across the night.

CHAPTER XXXI

_In the Pines_

Alice Weston pleaded headache next morning. She did not get up until
noon. Meanwhile Dorothy came, bringing hot coffee and toast.

"Does it really hurt?" queried Dorothy. "Or is it one of those headaches
that is always going to hurt, but never does?"

Alice smiled and sipped her coffee. "Oh, it's not bad. I want to rest.
Perhaps it's the altitude."

"Perhaps," said Dorothy. "I'm sorry, Alice."

They chatted awhile. Suddenly Alice thought of the letters Lorry had
given her. She had carried them to her room, and had forgotten them.

"Mr. Adams left some mail with me last night. I happened to be outside
when he rode past."

"Why, I thought he had gone!"

"He said he had to go to Jason for something or other. He left early
this morning, I think."

Dorothy glanced at the mail. "All for daddy--except this circular. H'm!
'Intelligent clothing for Intelligent People.' Isn't that awful? How in
the world do su