第1章

FOREWORD

ItwasinevitablethatinmyeffortstowriteromantichistoryofthegreatWestIshouldatlengthcometothestoryofafeud。ForlongIhavesteeredclearofthisrock。ButatlastIhavereacheditandmustgooverit，drivenbymydesiretochroniclethestirringeventsofpioneerdays。

Evento—dayitisnotpossibletotravelintotheremotecornersoftheWestwithoutseeingthelivesofpeoplestillaffectedbyafightingpast。HowcanthetruthbetoldaboutthepioneeringoftheWestifthestruggle，thefight，thebloodbeleftout？Itcannotbedone。Howcananovelbestirringandthrilling，aswerethosetimes，unlessitbefullofsensation？Mylonglaborshavebeendevotedtomakingstoriesresemblethetimestheydepict。IhavelovedtheWestforitsvastness，itscontrast，itsbeautyandcolorandlife，foritswildnessandviolence，andforthefactthatI

haveseenhowitdevelopedgreatmenandwomenwhodiedunknownandunsung。

Inthismaterialisticage，thishard，practical，swift，greedyageofrealism，itseemsthereisnoplaceforwritersofromance，noplaceforromanceitself。Formanyyearsalltheeventsleadinguptothegreatwarwererealistic，andthewaritselfwashorriblyrealistic，andtheaftermathislikewise。Romanceisonlyanothernameforidealism;andIcontendthatlifewithoutidealsisnotworthliving。Neverinthehistoryoftheworldwereidealsneededsoterriblyasnow。WalterScottwroteromance;sodidVictorHugo;

andlikewiseKipling，Hawthorne，Stevenson。ItwasStevenson，particularly，whowieldedabludgeonagainsttherealists。Peopleliveforthedreamintheirhearts。AndIhaveyettoknowanyonewhohasnotsomesecretdream，somehope，howeverdim，somestoriedwalltolookatinthedusk，somepaintedwindowleadingtothesoul。

Howstrangeindeedtofindthattherealistshaveidealsanddreams！

Toreadthemonewouldthinktheirlivesheldnothingsignificant。

Buttheylove，theyhope，theydream，theysacrifice，theystruggleonwiththatdreamintheirheartsjustthesameasothers。Weallaredreamers，ifnotintheheavy—liddedwastingoftime，theninthemeaningoflifethatmakesusworkon。

ItwasWordsworthwhowrote，"Theworldistoomuchwithus";andifIcouldgivethesecretofmyambitionasanovelistinafewwordsitwouldbecontainedinthatquotation。Myinspirationtowritehasalwayscomefromnature。Characterandactionaresubordinatedtosetting。InallthatIhavedoneIhavetriedtomakepeopleseehowtheworldistoomuchwiththem。Gettingandspendingtheylaywastetheirpowers，withneverabreathofthefreeandwonderfullifeoftheopen！

SoIcomebacktothemainpointofthisforeword，inwhichIamtryingtotellwhyandhowIcametowritethestoryofafeudnotoriousinArizonaasthePleasantValleyWar。

SomeyearsagoMr。HarryAdams，acattlemanofVermajoPark，NewMexico，toldmehehadbeenintheTontoBasinofArizonaandthoughtImightfindinterestingmaterialthereconcerningthisPleasantValleyWar。

Hisversionofthewarbetweencattlemenandsheepmencertainlydeterminedmetolookovertheground。Myoldguide，AlDoyleofFlagstaff，hadledmeoverhalfofArizona，butneverdownintothatwonderfulwildandruggedbasinbetweentheMogollonMesaandtheMazatzalMountains。DoylehadlonglivedonthefrontierandhisversionofthePleasantValleyWardifferedmarkedlyfromthatofMr。Adams。Iaskedotheroldtimersaboutit，andtheirremarksfurtherexcitedmycuriosity。

Oncedownthere，DoyleandIfoundthewildest，mostrugged，roughest，andmostremarkablecountryeitherofushadvisited;andthefewinhabitantswerelikethecountry。Iwentinostensiblytohuntbearandlionandturkey，butwhatIreallywashuntingforwasthestoryofthatPleasantValleyWar。Iengagedtheservicesofabearhunterwhohadthreestrappingsonsasreservedandstrangeandaloofashewas。

Nowheeltracksofanykindhadevercomewithinmilesoftheircabin。

IspenttwowonderfulmonthshuntinggameandrevelinginthebeautyandgrandeurofthatRimRockcountry，butIcameoutknowingnomoreaboutthePleasantValleyWar。TheseTexansandtheirfewneighbors，likewisefromTexas，didnottalk。ButallIsawandfeltonlyinspiredmethemore。Thistripwasinthefallof1918。

ThenextyearIwentagainwiththebesthorses，outfit，andmentheDoylescouldprovide。AndthistimeIdidnotaskanyquestions。

ButIrodehorses——someofthemtoowildforme——andpackedariflemanyahundredmiles，ridingsometimesthirtyandfortymilesaday，andIclimbedinandoutofthedeepcanyons，desperatelystayingattheheelsofoneofthoselong—leggedTexans。Ilearnedthelifeofthosebackwoodsmen，butIdidnotgetthestoryofthePleasantValleyWar。Ihad，however，wonthefriendshipofthathardypeople。

In1920Iwentbackwithastilllargeroutfit，equippedtostayaslongasIliked。Andthistime，withoutmyaskingit，differentnativesoftheTontocametotellmeaboutthePleasantValleyWar。

Notwoofthemagreedonanythingconcerningit，exceptthatonlyoneoftheactiveparticipantssurvivedthefighting。Whencecomesmytitle，TOTHELASTMAN。ThusIwasswampedinamassofmaterialoutofwhichIcouldonlyfloundertomyownconclusion。Someofthestoriestoldmearesingularlytemptingtoanovelist。But，thoughIbelievethemmyself，Icannotrisktheirimprobabilitytothosewhohavenoideaofthewildnessofwildmenatawildtime。Therereallywasaterribleandbloodyfeud，perhapsthemostdeadlyandleastknowninalltheannalsoftheWest。Isawtheground，thecabins，thegraves，allsodarklysuggestiveofwhatmusthavehappened。

IneverlearnedthetruthofthecauseofthePleasantValleyWar，orifIdidhearitIhadnomeansofrecognizingit。Allthegivencauseswereplausibleandconvincing。Strangetostate，thereisstillsecrecyandreticenceallovertheTontoBasinastothefactsofthisfeud。Manydescendentsofthosekilledarelivingtherenow。

Butnoonelikestotalkaboutit。Assuredlymanyoftheincidentstoldmereallyoccurred，as，forexample，theterribleoneofthetwowomen，inthefaceofrelentlessenemies，savingthebodiesoftheirdeadhusbandsfrombeingdevouredbywildhogs。Sufficeittosaythatthisromanceistruetomyconceptionofthewar，andIbaseituponthesettingIlearnedtoknowandlovesowell，uponthestrangepassionsofprimitivepeople，anduponmyinstinctivereactiontothefactsandrumorsthatIgathered。

ZANEGREY。

AVALON，CALIFORNIA，April，1921

CHAPTERI

Attheendofadry，uphillrideoverbarrencountryJeanIsbelunpackedtocampattheedgeofthecedarswherealittlerockycanyongreenwithwillowandcottonwood，promisedwaterandgrass。

Hisanimalsweretired，especiallythepackmulethathadcarriedaheavyload;andwithslowheaveofrelieftheykneltandrolledinthedust。Jeanexperiencedsomethingofreliefhimselfashethrewoffhischaps。Hehadnotbeenusedtohot，dusty，glaringdaysonthebarrenlands。Stretchinghislonglengthbesideatinyrillofclearwaterthattinkledovertheredstones，hedrankthirstily。

Thewaterwascool，butithadanacridtaste——analkalibitethathedidnotlike。NotsincehehadleftOregonhadhetastedclear，sweet，coldwater;andhemisseditjustashelongedforthestatelyshadyforestshehadloved。Thiswild，endlessArizonalandbadefairtoearnhishatred。

Bythetimehehadleisurelycompletedhistaskstwilighthadfallenandcoyoteshadbeguntheirbarking。Jeanlistenedtotheyelpsandtothemoanofthecoolwindinthecedarswithasenseofsatisfactionthattheselonelysoundswerefamiliar。Thiscedarwoodburnedintoaprettyfireandthesmellofitssmokewasnewlypleasant。

"ReckonmaybeI’lllearntolikeArizona，"hemused，halfaloud。

"ButI’veahankerin’forwaterfallsan’dark—greenforests。

MustbetheIndianinme……Anyway，dadneedsmebad，an’

IreckonI’mhereforkeeps。"

Jeanthrewsomecedarbranchesonthefire，inthelightofwhichheopenedhisfather’sletter，hopingbyrepeatedreadingtograspmoreofitsstrangeportent。Ithadbeentwomonthsinreachinghim，comingbytraveler，bystageandtrain，andthenbyboat，andfinallybystageagain。Writteninleadpencilonaleaftornfromanoldledger，itwouldhavebeenhardtoreadevenifthewritinghadbeenmorelegible。

"Dad’swritin’wasalwaysbad，butIneversawitsoshaky，"saidJean，thinkingaloud。

GRASSVALLY，ARIZONA。

SonJean，——Comehome。Hereisyourhomeandhereyourneeded。

WhenweleftOregonweallreckonedyouwouldnotbelongbehind。

Butitsyearsnow。Iamgrowingold，son，andyouwasalwaysmysteadiestboy。Notthatyoueverwassodamsteady。Onlyyourwildnessseemedmoreforthewoods。Youtakeaftermother，andyourbrothersBillandGuytakeafterme。Thatistheredandwhiteofit。YourpartIndian，Jean，andthatIndianIreckonIamgoingtoneedbad。Iamrichincattleandhorses。AndmyrangehereisthebestIeverseen。Latelywehavebeenlosingstock。Butthatisnotallnorsobad。SheepmenhavemovedintotheTontoandaregrazingdownonGrassVally。Cattlemenandsheepmencanneverbideinthiscountry。Wehavebadtimesahead。

ReckonIhavemorereasonstoworryandneedyou，butyoumustwaittohearthatbywordofmouth。Whateveryourdoing，chuckitandrustleforGrassVallysotomakeherebyspring。Iamaskingyoutotakepainstopackinsomegunsandalotofshells。Andhidetheminyouroutfit。IfyoumeetanyonewhenyourcomingdownintotheTonto，listenmorethanyoutalk。Andlast，son，dontletanythingkeepyouinOregon。Reckonyouhaveasweetheart，andifsofetchheralong。Withlovefromyourdad，GASTONISBEL。

Jeanponderedoverthisletter。judgedbymemoryofhisfather，whohadalwaysbeenself—sufficient，ithadbeenasurpriseandsomewhatofashock。Weeksoftravelandreflectionhadnothelpedhimtograspthemeaningbetweenthelines。

"Yes，dad’sgrowin’old，"musedJean，feelingawarmthandasadnessstirinhim。"Hemustbe’wayoversixty。Butheneverlookedold……Sohe’srichnowan’losin’stock，an’goin’tobesheepedoffhisrange。Dadcouldstandalotofrustlin’，butnotmuchfromsheepmen。"

ThesoftnessthatstirredinJeanmergedintoacold，thoughtfulearnestnesswhichhadfollowedeveryperusalofhisfather’sletter。

Adark，fullcurrentseemedflowinginhisveins，andattimeshefeltitswellandheat。Ittroubledhim，makinghimconsciousofadeeper，strongerself，opposedtohiscareless，free，anddreamynature。NotieshadboundhiminOregon，exceptloveforthegreat，stillforestsandthethunderingrivers;andthislovecamefromhissofterside。Ithadcosthimawrenchtoleave。AndallthewaybyshipdownthecoasttoSanDiegoandacrosstheSierraMadresbystage，andsoontothislastoverlandtravelbyhorseback，hehadfeltaretreatingoftheselfthatwastranquilandhappyandadominatingofthisunknownsomberself，withitsmenacingpossibilities。YetdespiteanamelessregretandaloyaltytoOregon，whenhelayinhisblanketshehadtoconfessakeeninterestinhisadventurousfuture，akeenenjoymentofthisstark，wildArizona。Itappearedtobeadifferentskystretchingindark，star—spangleddomeoverhim——closer，vaster，bluer。Thestrongfragranceofsageandcedarfloatedoverhimwiththecamp—firesmoke，andallseemeddrowsilytosubduehisthoughts。

Atdawnherolledoutofhisblanketsand，pullingonhisboots，beganthedaywithazestfortheworkthatmustbringcloserhiscallingfuture。White，cracklingfrostandcold，nippingairwerethesamekeenspurstoactionthathehadknownintheuplandsofOregon，yettheywerenotwhollythesame。Hesensedanexhilarationsimilartotheeffectofastrong，sweetwine。Hishorseandmulehadfaredwellduringthenight，havingbeenmuchrefreshedbythegrassandwaterofthelittlecanyon。Jeanmountedandrodeintothecedarswithgladnessthatatlasthehadputtheendlessleaguesofbarrenlandbehindhim。

Thetrailhefollowedappearedtobeseldomtraveled。Itled，accordingtothemeagerinformationobtainableatthelastsettlement，directlytowhatwascalledtheRim，andfromthereGrassValleycouldbeseendownintheBasin。Theascentofthegroundwassogradualthatonlyinlong，openstretchescoulditbeseen。ButthenatureofthevegetationshowedJeanhowhewasclimbing。Scant，low，scraggycedarsgaveplacetomorenumerous，darker，greener，bushierones，andthesetohigh，full—foliaged，green—berriedtrees。Sageandgrassintheopenflatsgrewmoreluxuriously。Thencamethepinyons，andpresentlyamongthemthechecker—barkedjunipers。Jeanhailedthefirstpinetreewithaheartyslaponthebrown，ruggedbark。Itwasasmalldwarfpinestrugglingtolive。Thenextonewaslarger，andafterthatcameseveral，andbeyondthempinesstoodupeverywhereabovethelowertrees。OdorofpineneedlesmingledwiththeotherdrysmellsthatmadethewindpleasanttoJean。Inanhourfromthefirstlineofpineshehadriddenbeyondthecedarsandpinyonsintoaslowlythickeninganddeepeningforest。Underbrushappearedscarceexceptinravines，andthegroundinopenpatchesheldableachedgrass。

Jean’seyerovedforsightofsquirrels，birds，deer，oranymovingcreature。Itappearedtobeadry，uninhabitedforest。AboutmiddayJeanhaltedatapondofsurfacewater，evidentlymeltedsnow，andgavehisanimalsadrink。Hesawafewolddeertracksinthemudandseveralhugebirdtracksnewtohimwhichheconcludedmusthavebeenmadebywildturkeys。

Thetraildividedatthispond。Jeanhadnoideawhichbranchheoughttotake。"Reckonitdoesn’tmatter，"hemuttered，ashewasabouttoremount。Hishorsewasstandingwithearsup，lookingbackalongthetrail。ThenJeanheardaclip—clopoftrottinghoofs，andpresentlyespiedahorseman。

Jeanmadeapretenseoftighteninghissaddlegirthswhilehepeeredoverhishorseattheapproachingrider。AllmeninthiscountryweregoingtobeofexceedinginteresttoJeanIsbel。ThismanatadistancerodeandlookedlikealltheArizoniansJeanhadseen，hehadasuperbseatinthesaddle，andhewaslongandlean。Heworeahugeblacksombreroandasoiledredscarf。Hisvestwasopenandhewaswithoutacoat。

TheridercametrottingupandhaltedseveralpacesfromJean"Hullo，stranger！"hesaid，gruffly。

"Howdyyourself！"repliedJean。Hefeltaninstinctiveimportanceinthemeetingwiththeman。NeverhadsharpereyesflashedoverJeanandhisoutfit。Hehadadust—colored，sun—burnedface，long，lean，andhard，ahugesandymustachethathidhismouth，andeyesofpiercinglightintensity。NotverymuchhardWesternexperiencehadpassedbythisman，yethewasnotold，measuredbyyears。

WhenhedismountedJeansawhewastall，evenforanArizonian。

"Seenyourtracksbackaways，"hesaid，asheslippedthebittolethishorsedrink。"Wherebound？"

"ReckonI’mlost，allright，"repliedJean。"Newcountryforme。"

"Shore。Iseenthetfromyourtracksan’yourlastcamp。Wal，wherewasyouheadin’forbeforeyougotlost？"

Thequerywasdeliberatelycool，withadry，crispring。Jeanfeltthelackoffriendlinessorkindlinessinit。

"GrassValley。Myname’sIsbel，"hereplied，shortly。

Theriderattendedtohisdrinkinghorseandpresentlyrebridledhim;

thenwithlongswingoflegheappearedtostepintothesaddle。

"ShoreIknowedyouwasJeanIsbel，"hesaid。"EverybodyintheTontohasheerdoldGassIsbelsentferhisboy。"

"Wellthen，whydidyouask？"inquiredJean，bluntly。

"ReckonIwantedtoseewhatyou’dsay。"

"So？Allright。ButI’mnotcarin’verymuchforwhatYOUsay。"

Theirglanceslockedsteadilythenandeachmeasuredtheotherbytheintangibleconflictofspirit。

"Shorethet’snatural，"repliedtherider。Hisspeechwasslow，andthemotionsofhislong，brownhands，ashetookacigarettefromhisvest，kepttimewithhiswords。"Butseein’you’reoneoftheIsbels，I’llhevmysaywhetheryouwantitornot。Myname’sColteran’I’moneofthesheepmenGassIsbel’sriledwith。"

"Colter。Gladtomeetyou，"repliedJean。"An’Ireckonwhoriledmyfatherisgoin’torileme。"

"Shore。Ifthetwasn’t soyou’dnotbeanIsbel，"returnedColter，withagrimlittlelaugh。"It’seasytoseeyouain’trunintoanyTontoBasinfellersyet。Wal，I’mgoin’totellyouthetyouroldmangabbedlikeawomandownatGreaves’sstore。Braggedabootyouan’howyoucouldfightan’howyoucouldshootan’howyoucouldtrackahossoraman！Braggedhowyou’dchaseeverysheepherderbackupontheRim……I’mtellin’youbecausewewantyoutogitourstandright。We’regoin’torunsheepdowninGrassValley。"

"Ahuh！Well，who’swe？"queriedJean，curtly。

"What—at？……We——Imeanthesheepmenrangin’thisRimfromBlackButtetotheApachecountry。"

"Colter，I’mastrangerinArizona，"saidJean，slowly。Iknowlittleaboutranchersorsheepmen。It’struemyfathersentforme。It’strue，Idaresay，thathebragged，forhewasgiventoblusteran’blow。

An’he’soldnow。Ican’thelpitifhebraggedaboutme。Butifhehas，an’ifhe’sjustifiedinhisstandagainstyousheepmen，Imgoin’

todomybesttoliveuptohisbrag。"

"Igetyourhunch。Shoreweunderstandeachother，an’thet’sapowerfulhelp。Youtakemyhunchtoyouroldman，"repliedColter，asheturnedhishorseawaytowardtheleft。"Thettrailleadin’

southisyours。WhenyoucometotheRimyou’llseeabarespotdownintheBasin。Thet’llbeGrassValley。"

Herodeawayoutofsightintothewoods。Jeanleanedagainsthishorseandpondered。ItseemeddifficulttobejusttothisColter，notbecauseofhisclaims，butbecauseofasubtlehostilitythatemanatedfromhim。Colterhadthehardface，themaskedintent，theturnofspeechthatJeanhadcometoassociatewithdishonestmen。

EvenifJeanhadnotbeenprejudiced，ifhehadknownnothingofhisfather’stroublewiththesesheepmen，andifColterhadmethimonlytoexchangeglancesandgreetings，stillJeanwouldneverhavehadafavorableimpression。Coltergrateduponhim，rousedanantagonismseldomfelt。

"Heigho！"sighedtheyoungman，"Good—bytohuntin’an’fishing’！

Dad’sgivenmeaman’sjob。"

Withthathemountedhishorseandstartedthepackmuleintotheright—handtrail。Walkingandtrotting，hetraveledallafternoon，towardsunsetgettingintoheavyforestofpine。Morethanonesnowbankshowedwhitethroughthegreen，shelteredonthenorthslopesofshadyravines。Anditwasuponenteringthiszoneofricher，deeperforestlandthatJeansloughedoffhisgloomyforebodings。ThesestatelypineswerenotthegiantfirsofOregon，butanyloverofthewoodscouldbehappyunderthem。Higherstillheclimbeduntiltheforestspreadbeforeandaroundhimlikealevelpark，withthicketedravineshereandthereoneachside。Andpresentlythatdeceitfullevelledtoahigherbenchuponwhichthepinestowered，andwerematchedbybeautifultreeshetookforspruce。Heavilybarked，withregularspreadingbranches，theseconifersroseinsymmetricalshapetospeartheskywithsilverplumes。Agracefulgray—greenmoss，wavedlikeveilsfromthebranches。Theairwasnotsodryanditwascolder，withascentandtouchofsnow。Jeanmadecampatthefirstlikelysite，takingtheprecautiontounrollhisbedsomelittledistancefromhisfire。Underthesoftlymoaningpineshefeltcomfortable，havinglostthesenseofanimmeasurableopenspacefallingawayfromallaroundhim。

ThegobblingofwildturkeysawakenedJean，"Chuga—lug，chug—a—lug，chug—a—lug—chug。"Therewasnotagreatdifferencebetweenthegobbleofawildturkeyandthatofatameone。Jeangotup，andtakinghisriflewentoutintothegrayobscurityofdawntotrytolocatetheturkeys。Butitwastoodark，andfinallywhendaylightcametheyappearedtobegone。Themulehadstrayed，and，whatwithfindingitandcookingbreakfastandpacking，Jeandidnotmakeaveryearlystart。Onthislastlapofhislongjourneyhehadsloweddown。

Hewaswearyofhurrying;thechangefromweeksintheglaringsunanddust—ladenwindtothissweetcootdarklygreenandbrownforestwasverywelcome;hewantedtolingeralongtheshadedtrail。ThisdayhemadesurewouldseehimreachtheRim。Byandbyhelostthetrail。Ithadjustwornoutfromlackofuse。EverynowandthenJeanwouldcrossanoldtrail，andashepenetrateddeeperintotheforesteverydampordustyspotshowedtracksofturkey，deer，andbear。Theamountofbearsignsurprisedhim。Presentlyhiskeennostrilswereassailedbyasmellofsheep，andsoonherodeintoabroadsheep，trail。FromthetracksJeancalculatedthatthesheephadpassedtherethedaybefore。

Anunreasonableantipathyseemedborninhim。Tobesurehehadbeenpreparedtodislikesheep，andthatwaswhyhewasunreasonable。Butontheotherhandthisbandofsheephadleftabroadbareswath，weedless，grassless，flowerless，intheirwake。Wheresheepgrazedtheydestroyed。ThatwaswhatJeanhadagainstthem。

Anhourlaterherodetothecrestofalongparklikeslope，wherenewgreengrasswassproutingandflowerspeepedeverywhere。Thepinesappearedfarapart;gnarledoaktreesshowedruggedandgrayagainstthegreenwallofwoods。Awhitestripofsnowgleamedlikeamovingstreamawaydowninthewoods。

Jeanheardthemusicaltinkleofbellsandthebaa—baaofsheepandthefaint，sweetbleatingoflambs。Asheroadtowardthesesoundsadogranoutfromanoakthicketandbarkedathim。NextJeansmelledacampfireandsoonhecaughtsightofacurlingbluecolumnofsmoke，andthenasmallpeakedtent。BeyondtheclumpofoaksJeanencounteredaMexicanladcarryingacarbine。Theboyhadaswarthy，pleasantface，andtoJean’sgreetinghereplied，"BUENASDIAS。"JeanunderstoodlittleSpanish，andaboutallhegatheredbyhissimplequerieswasthattheladwasnotalone——andthatitwas"lambingtime。"

Thislattercircumstancegrewnoisilymanifest。Theforestseemedshrillyfullofincessantbaasandplaintivebleats。Allaboutthecamp，ontheslope，intheglades，andeverywhere，weresheep。Afewweregrazing;manywerelyingdown;mostofthemwereewessucklingwhitefleecylittlelambsthatstaggeredontheirfeet。EverywhereJeansawtinylambsjustborn。Theirpin—pointedbleatspiercedtheheavierbaa—baaoftheirmothers。

Jeandismountedandledhishorsedowntowardthecamp，whereheratherexpectedtoseeanotherandolderMexican，fromwhomhemightgetinformation。Theladwalkedwithhim。Downthiswaytheplaintiveuproarmadebythesheepwasnotsoloud。

"Hellothere！"calledJean，cheerfully，asheapproachedthetent。

Noanswerwasforthcoming。Droppinghisbridle，hewenton，ratherslowly，lookingforsomeonetoappear。Thenavoicefromonesidestartledhim。

"Mawnin’，stranger。"

Agirlsteppedoutfrombesideapine。Shecarriedarifle。Herfaceflashedrichlybrown，butshewasnotMexican。Thisfact，andthesuddenconvictionthatshehadbeenwatchinghim，somewhatdisconcertedJean。

"Begpardon——miss，"hefloundered。"Didn’texpect，toseea——girl……I’msortoflost——lookin’fortheRim——an’thoughtI’dfindasheepherderwho’dshowme。Ican’tsavvythisboy’slingo。"

Whilehespokeitseemedtohimanintentnessofexpression，astrainrelaxedfromherface。Afaintsuggestionofhostilitylikewisedisappeared。Jeanwasnotevensurethathehadcaughtit，buttherehadbeensomethingthatnowwasgone。

"ShoreI’llbegladtoshowy’u，"shesaid。

"Thanks，miss。ReckonIcanbreatheeasynow，"hereplied，"It’salongridefromSanDiego。Hotan’dusty！I’mprettytired。

An’maybethiswoodsisn’tgoodmedicinetoachin’eyes！"

"SanDiego！Y’u’refromthecoast？"

"Yes。"

Jeanhaddoffedhissombreroatsightofherandhestillheldit，ratherdeferentially，perhaps。Itseemedtoattractherattention。

"Putony’urhat，stranger……ShoreIcan’trecollectwhenanymanbaredhishaidtome。"Sheutteredalittlelaughinwhichsurpriseandfranknessmingledwithatintofbitterness。

Jeansatdownwithhisbacktoapine，and，layingthesombrerobyhisside，helookedfullather，consciousofasingulareagerness，asifhewantedtoverifybyclosescrutinyafirsthastyimpression。

IftherehadbeenaninstinctinhismeetingwithColter，therewasmoreinthis。Thegirlhalfsat，halfleanedagainstalog，withtheshinylittlecarbineacrossherknees。Shehadalevel，curiousgazeuponhim，andJeanhadnevermetonejustlikeit。Hereyeswereratherawideovalinshape，clearandsteady，withshadowsofthoughtintheiramber—browndepths。TheyseemedtolookthroughJean，andhisgazedroppedfirst。Thenitwashesawherraggedhomespunskirtandafewinchesofbrown，bareankles，strongandround，andcrudeworn—outmoccasinsthatfailedtohidetheshapeliness，ofherfeet。

Suddenlyshedrewbackherstockinglessanklesandill—shodlittlefeet。

WhenJeanliftedhisgazeagainhefoundherfacehalfavertedandastainofredinthegoldtanofhercheek。Thattouchofembarrassmentsomehowremovedherfromthisstrong，raw，wildwoodlandsetting。Itchangedherpoise。Itdetractedfromthecurious，unabashed，almostbold，lookthathehadencounteredinhereyes。

"Reckonyou’refromTexas，"saidJean，presently。

"Shoream，"shedrawled。ShehadalazySouthernvoice，pleasanttohear。"How’dy’u—allguessthat？"

"AnybodycantellaTexan。WhereIcamefromtherewereagoodmanypioneersan’ranchersfromtheoldLoneStarstate。I’veworkedforseveral。An’，cometothinkofit，I’dratherhearaTexasgirltalkthananybody。"

"Didy’uknowmanyTexasgirls？"sheinquired，turningagaintofacehim。

"ReckonIdid——quiteagoodmany。"

"Didy’ugowiththem？"

"Gowiththem？Reckonyoumeankeepcompany。Why，yes，IguessI

did——alittle，"laughedJean。"SometimesonaSundayoradanceonceinabluemoon，an’occasionallyaride。"

"Shorethataccounts，"saidthegirl，wistfully。

"Forwhat？"askedJean。

"Y’urbein’agentleman，"shereplied，withforce。Oh，I’venotforgotten。IhadfriendswhenwelivedinTexas……Threeyearsago。Shoreitseemslonger。Threemiserableyearsinthisdamnedcountry！"

Thenshebitherlip，evidentlytokeepbackfurtherunwittingutterancetoatotalstranger。AnditwasthatbitingofherlipthatdrewJean’sattentiontohermouth。Itheldbeautyofcurveandfullnessandcolorthatcouldnothideacertainsadnessandbitterness。ThenthewholeflashingbrownfacechangedforJean。

Hesawthatitwasyoung，fullofpassionandrestraint，possessingapowerwhichgrewonhim。This，withhershameandpathosandthefactthatshecravedrespect，gavealeaptoJean’sinterest。

"Well，Ireckonyouflatterme，"hesaid，hopingtoputherathereaseagain。"I’monlyaroughhunteran’fisherman—woodchopperan’

horsetracker。NeverhadalltheschoolIneeded——nornearenoughcompanyofnicegirlslikeyou。"

"AmInice？"sheasked，quickly。

"Yousureare，"hereplied，smiling。

"Intheserags，"shedemanded，withasuddenflashofpassionthatthrilledhim。"Lookattheholes。"Sheshowedripsandworn—outplacesinthesleevesofherbuckskinblouse，throughwhichgleamedaround，brownarm。"IsewwhenIhaveanythin’tosewwith……

Lookatmyskirt——adirtyrag。An’Ihaveonlyoneothertomyname……Look！"Againacolortingedhercheeks，mostbecoming，andgivingthelietoheraction。Butshamecouldnotcheckherviolencenow。Adammed—upresentmentseemedtohavebrokenoutinflood。Sheliftedtheraggedskirtalmosttoherknees。"Nostockings！NoShoes！……Howcanagirlbenicewhenshehasnoclean，decentwoman’sclothestowear？"

"How——howcanagirl……"beganJean。"Seehere，miss，I’mbeggin’

yourpardonfor——sortofstirrin’youtoforgetyourselfalittle。