“Well, what's the program?” he wanted to know. “It's you and Miss Kinney for the Mal Pais, me for the trail. I ain't very likely to find Mr. Struve, but you can't always sometimes tell. Anyhow, I'm going to take a shot at it,” the ranger answered. “And at him?” his friend suggested. “Oh, I reckon not. He may be a sure-enough wolf, but I expect this ain't his day to howl.” Steve whistled to his pony, swung to the saddle when it trotted up, and waved his hat in farewell. His “Adios!” drifted back to them from the crown of the hill just before he disappeared over its edge. CHAPTER VI -- SOMEBODY'S ACTING MIGHTY FOOLISH. Larry Neill watched him vanish and then turned smiling to Miss Kinney. “All aboard for the Mal Pais,” he sang out cheerfully. Too cheerfully perhaps. His assurance that all was well between them chilled her manner. He might forgive himself easily if he was that sort of man; she would at least show him she was no party, to it. He had treated her outrageously, had manhandled her with deliberate intent to insult. She would show him no one alive could treat her so and calmly assume to her that it was all right. Her cool eyes examined the horse, and him. “I don't quite see how you expect to arrange it, Mr. Neill. That is your name, isn't it?” she added indifferently. “That's my name--Larry Neill. Easiest thing in the world to arrange. We ride pillion if it suits you; if not, I'll walk.” “Neither plan suits me,” she announced curtly, her gaze on the far-away hills. He glanced at her in quick surprise, then made the mistake of letting himself smile at her frosty aloofness instead of being crestfallen by it. She happened to look round and catch that smile before he could extinguish it. Her petulance hardened instantly to a resolution. “I don't quite know what we're going to do about it--unless you walk,” he proposed, amused at the absurdity of his suggestion. “That's just what I'm going to do,” she retorted promptly. “What!” He wheeled on her with an astonished smile on his face. This served merely to irritate her. “I said I was going to walk.” “Walk seventeen miles?” “Seventy if I choose.” “Nonsense! Of course you won't.” Her eyebrows lifted in ironic demurrer. “I think you must let me be the judge of that,” she said gently. “Walk!” he reiterated. “Why, you're walked out. You couldn't go a mile. What do you take me for? Think I'm going to let you come that on me.” “I don't quite see how you can help it, Mr. Neill,” she answered. “Help it! Why, it ain't reasonable. Of course you'll ride.” “Of course I won't.” She set off briskly, almost jauntily, despite her tired feet and aching limbs. “Well, if that don't beat--” He broke off to laugh at the situation. After she had gone twenty steps he called after her in a voice that did not suppress its chuckle: “You ain't going the right direction, Miss Kinney.” She whirled round on him in anger. How dared he laugh at her? “Which is the right way?” she choked.