Her sooty lashes fell before this sinister spirit she had evoked, but were raised instantly at the sound of him drawing his body toward her. Inevitably there was a good deal of the young animal in her superbly healthy body. She had been close to nature all day, the riotous passion of spring flowing free in her as in the warm earth herself. But the magic of the mystic hills had lifted her beyond the merely personal. Some sense of grossness in him for the first time seared across her brain. She started up, and her face told him she had taken alarm. "We must be going," she cried. He got to his feet. "No hurry, sweetheart." The look in his face startled her. It was new to her in her experience of men. Never before had she met elemental lust. "You're near enough," she cautioned sharply. He cursed softly his maladroitness. "I was nearer last night, honey," he reminded her. "Last night isn't to-night." He hesitated. Should he rush her defenses, bury her protests in kisses? Or should he talk her out of this harsh mood? Last night she had been his. There were moments during the day when she had responded to him as a musical instrument does to skilled fingers. But for the moment his power over her was gone. And he was impatient of delay. "What's the matter with you?" he asked roughly. "We'll start at once." "No." "Yes." Frightened though she was, her gaze held steadily to his. It was the same instinct in her that makes one look a dangerous wild beast straight in the eye. "What's got into you?" he demanded sullenly. "I'm going home." "After a while." "Now." "I reckon not just yet. It's my say-so." "Don't you dare stop me." The passion in him warred with prudence. He temporized. "Why, honey! I'm the man that loves you." She would not see his outstretched hands. "Then saddle my horse." "By God, no! You're going to listen to me." His anger ripped out unexpectedly, even to him. Whatever fear she felt, the girl crushed down. He must not know her heart was drowned in terror. "I'll listen after we've started." He cursed her fickleness. "What's ailin' you, girl? I ain't a man to be put off this way." "Don't forget you're in Arizona," she warned. He understood what she meant. In the ranch country no man could with impunity insult a woman. Standing defiantly before him, her pliant form very straight, the underlying blood beating softly under the golden brown of her cheeks, one of the thick braids of her heavy, blue-black hair falling across the breast that rose and fell a little fast, she was no less than a challenge of Nature to him. He looked into a mobile face as daring and as passionate as his own, warm with the life of innocent youth, and the dark blood mantled his face. "Saddle the horses," she commanded. "When I get good and ready." "Now." "No, ma'am. We're going to have a talk first."