the friends who are expecting you--am I right?--at North
Yakima."

There was a brief silence, and she moved a little in her chair. "Where I
am going now," she said, and looked at him once more across the invisible
barrier, "is another story."

"I beg your pardon." Daniels laughed and, rising from his perch on the
chair arm, put his notebook in his pocket. "And I'm awfully grateful. If
ever I can be of service to you, I hope you'll let me know." He started up
the car, then paused to say over his shoulder: "The light for photography
was fine; the old man will double column every illustration."

"Illustrations?" She started up in dismay. "Oh, no. Please--I couldn't
endure--"

But Jimmie Daniels, with the camera swinging to his quick step, hurried on
to the vestibule.

She settled back in her seat, and for a moment her consternation grew;
then the humor of the situation must have dawned on her, for suddenly the
sparkles danced in her eyes. Her glance met Tisdale's briefly and,
suppress it as he tried, his own smile broke at the corners of his mouth.
He rose and walked out again to the platform.

This was the rarest woman on earth. She was able to appreciate a joke at
her own expense. Clearly she had finessed, then, in the instant she had
been sure of the game, she had met and accepted defeat with a smile. But
he would like to discipline that fellow Daniels;--here he frowned--those
films should be destroyed. Still, the boy would hardly give them up
peaceably and to take them otherwise would not spare her the publicity she
so desired to avoid; such a scene must simply furnish fresh material, a
new chapter to the story. After all, not one newspaper cut in a hundred
could be recognized. It was certain she was in no need of a champion; he
never had seen a woman so well equipped, so sure of herself and her
weapons, and yet so altogether feminine. If Foster had but known _her_.

Instantly, in sharp contrast to this delightful stranger, rose the woman
of his imagination; the idle spendthrift who had cast her spell over
level-headed Foster; who had wrecked David Weatherbee; and his face
hardened. A personal interview, he told himself presently, would be worse
than useless. There was no way to reach a woman like her; she was past
appeal. But he would take that tract of desert off her hands at her price,
and perhaps, while the money lasted, she would let Foster alone.

The train had left Lake Keechelus and was racing easily d