"I can think of a great many ways of saying it," said Donnegan. "I am the dry desert, you are the rain, and yet I remain dry and produce no grass." "A very pretty comparison," said the girl with a smile. "A very green one," and Donnegan smiled. "I am the wind and you are the wild geese, and yet I keep on blowing after you are gone and do not carry away a feather of you." "Pretty again." "And silly. But, really, you are very kind to me, and I shall try not to take too much advantage of it." "Will you answer a question?" "I had rather ask one: but go on." "What made you so dry a desert, Mr. Donnegan?" "There is a very leading question again." "I don't mean it that way. For you had the same sad, hungered look the first time I saw you--when you came into Milligan's in that beggarly disguise." "I shall confess one thing. It was not a disguise. It was the fact of me; I am a beggarly person." "Nonsense! I'm not witless, Mr. Donnegan. You talk well. You have an education." "In fact I have an educated taste; I disapprove of myself, you see, and long ago learned not to take myself too seriously." "Which leads to--" "The reason why I have wandered so much." "Like a hunter on a trail. Hunting for what?" "A chance to sit in a saddle--or a chair--and talk as we are talking." "Which seems to be idly." "Oh, you mistake me. Under the surface I am as serious as fire." "Or ice." At the random hit he glanced sharply at her, but she was looking a little past him, thinking. "I have tried to get at the reason behind all your reasons," she said. "You came on me in a haphazard fashion, and yet you are not a haphazard sort." "Do you see nothing serious about me?" "I see that you are unhappy," said the girl gently. "And I am sorry." Once again Donnegan was jarred, and he came within an ace of opening his mind to her, of pouring out the truth about Lou Macon. Love is a talking madness in all men and he came within an ace of confessing his troubles. "Let's go on," she said, loosening her rein. "Why not cut back in a semicircle toward The Corner?" "Toward The Corner? No, no!" There was a brightening of his eye as he noted her shudder of distaste or fear, and she strove to cover her traces. "I'm sick of the place," she said eagerly. "Let's get as far from it as we may." "But yonder is a very good trail leading past it." "Of course we'll ride that way if you wish, but I'd rather go straight ahead." If she had insisted stubbornly he would have thought nothing, but the moment she became politic he was on his guard. "You dislike something in The Corner," he said, thinking carelessly and aloud. "You are afraid of something back there. But what could you be afraid of? Then you may be afraid of something for me. Ah, I have it! They have decided to 'get' me for taking Jack Landis away; Joe Rix and the Pedlar are waiting for me to come back!" He looked steadily and she attempted to laugh.