“I didn't think you'd want to ride through all that dust and heat again to-day,” he called back. “You're better off in the shade.” “Going to call on 'Squaw-talk-far-off'--AGAIN?” She was still laughing, with something else beneath the laugh. He glanced at her quickly, wondering where she had gotten the name, and in his wonder neglected to make audible reply. Also he passed over the change to ride back to the gate and tell her good-by--with a hasty kiss, perhaps, from the saddle--as a lover should have done. He was not used to love-making. For him, it was settled that they loved each other, and would marry some day--he hoped the day would be soon. It did not occur to him that a girl wants to be told over and over that she is the only woman in the whole world worth a second thought or glance; nor that he should stop and say just where he was going, and what he meant to do, and how reluctant he was to be away from her. Trouble sat upon his mind like a dead weight, and dulled his perception, perhaps. He waved his hand to her from the stable, and galloped down the trail to the Point o' Rocks, and his mind, so far as Evadna was concerned, was at ease. Evadna, however, was crying, with her arms folded upon the top of the gate, before the cloud which marked his passing had begun to sprinkle the gaunt, gray sagebushes along the trail with a fresh layer of choking dust. Jack and Wally came up, scowling at the world and finding no words to match their gloom. Wally gave her a glance, and went on to the blacksmith shop, but Jack went straight up to her, for he liked her well. “What's the matter?” he asked dully. “Mad because you can't smoke up the ranch?” Evadna fumbled blindly for her handkerchief, scoured her eyes well when she found it, and put up the other hand to further shield her face. “Oh, the whole place is like a GRAVEYARD,” she complained. “Nobody will talk, or do anything but just wander around! I just can't STAND it!” Which was not frank of her. “It's too hot to do much of anything,” he said apologetically. “We might take a ride, if you don't mind the heat.” “You don't want to ride,” she objected petulantly. “Why didn't you go with Good Indian?” he countered. “Because I didn't want to. And I do wish you'd quit calling him that; he has a real name, I believe.” “If you're looking for a scrap,” grinned Jack, “I'll stake you to my six gun, and you can go down and kill off a few of those claim-jumpers. You seem to be in just about the proper frame uh mind to murder the whole bunch. Fly at it!” “It begins to look as if we women would have to do something,” she retorted cruelly. “There doesn't seem to be a man on the ranch with spirit enough to stop them from digging up the whole--” “I guess that'll be about enough,” Jack interrupted her, coldly. “Why didn't you say that to Good Indian?” “I told you not to call him that. I don't see why everybody is so mean to-day. There isn't a person--”