Beatrice smiled wanly. Not one of her Eastern acquaintances would have recognized Beatrice Lansell, the society beauty, in this remarkable-looking young woman, attired in a most haphazard fashion, with a face grimed like a chimney sweep, red eyelids drooping over tired, smarting eyes, and disheveled, ash-filled hair topped by a man's gray felt hat. When she smiled her teeth shone dead white, like a negro's. Dick regarded her critically, one foot on the wheel hub. “Where did you get hold of Keith Cameron's hat?” he inquired. Beatrice snatched the hat from her head with childish petulance, and looked as if she were going to throw it viciously upon the ground. If her face had been clean Dick might have seen how the blood had rushed into her cheeks; as it was, she was safe behind a mask of soot. She placed the hat back upon her head, feeling, privately, a bit foolish. “I supposed it was yours. I took it off the halltree.” The dignity of her tone was superb, but, unfortunately, it did not match her appearance of rakish vagabondage. Dick grinned through a deep layer of soot “Well, it happens to be Keith's. He lost it in the wind the other day, and I found it and took it home. It's too bad you've worn his hat all night and didn't know it. You ought to see yourself. Your own mother won't know you, Trix.” “I can't look any worse than you do. A negro would be white by comparison. Do get in, so we can start! I'm tired to death, and half-starved.” After these unamiable remarks, she refused to open her lips. They drove silently in the gray of early morning, and the empty barrels danced monotonously their fantastic jig in the back of the wagon. Sootyfaced cowboys galloped wearily over the prairie before them, and Sir Redmond rode moodily alongside. Of a truth, the glamour was gone. CHAPTER 11. Sir Redmond Waits His Answer. Beatrice felt distinctly out of sorts the next day, and chose an hour for her ride when she felt reasonably secure from unwelcome company. But when she went out into the sunshine there was Sir Redmond waiting with Rex and his big gray. Beatrice was not exactly elated at the sight, but she saw nothing to do but smile and make the best of it. She wanted to be alone, so that she could dream along through the hills she had learned to love, and think out some things which troubled her, and decide just how she had best go about winning Rex for herself; it had become quite necessary to her peace of mind that she should teach Dick and Keith Cameron a much-needed lesson. “It has been so long since we rode together,” he apologized. “I hope you don't mind my coming along.” “Oh, no! Why should I mind?” Beatrice smiled upon him in friendly fashion. She liked Sir Redmond very much--only she hoped he was not going to make love. Somehow, she did not feel in the mood for love-making just then.