He had dismounted from his horse, a light-tinted yellow roan, who stood as still as if he were of bronze, while his master leaned against the saddle, with his hand on the bridle. He held the other arm akimbo, with his hand on the belt which supported a knife and a pair of pistols. They were unconcealed by a coat; he wore a blue shirt and blue jeans trousers, with heavy boots drawn to the knees; and she recognized him rather by his accoutrements than his face, for his wide white wool hat was pulled far over it. From under the broad brim he gazed at her with sullen, lowering eyes. "I hearn ye callin' the cow, an' I knowed yer voice," he said. "I been waitin' fur ye." She faltered for a moment; then, with an evident effort, quickened her step and went forward to meet him. She apprehended the anger in his face, apparently, for there was a disarming, deprecating look in her clear dark eyes as she cast them up at him. Her yellow sunbonnet hardly served more for shelter than an aureola might have done,--a background for her auburn head; her dark brown dress and the green shadows of the trees added a pallor to her white oval face with its small delicate chin. He did not heed her appealing gaze. It was with a stern, hard voice that he spoke, and a fiery eye. "I hev got a word ter say ter ye, Ad'licia," he began, walking slowly by her side and leading his horse, the reins thrown over his arm and his uplifted hand near the bit. The animal's head was close above his shoulder, and as Adelicia met the creature's large-eyed and liquid gaze it seemed to her as if she were doubly arraigned before them both. "Ye needn't ter try ter fool me," said Jack Espey between his teeth. "I ain't tryin' ter fool ye," protested Adelicia. He looked at her narrowly, taking note of her evident discomposure, and placing disastrous construction upon it. "Ye 'low ye kin fool me 'thout tryin', I reckon," he said, with a sarcastic smile. "I ain't a-foolin' ye," gasped Adelicia. "Ye know--why, _ye know_ I ain't!" He hesitated, half constrained to believe her. He still gazed searchingly at her from under the broad brim of his hat. Her wild, agitated look made him doubtful. "Now, ye jes' ondertake ter fool me," he continued, with an accession of angry jealousy, "an'"--he laid his hand on the pistol in his belt--"I'll ondertake ter shoot ye dead on the spot." The color surged to her face. The tears rushed to her eyes. A sharp conflict waged in her heart for a moment, and then she walked on beside him, pale, composed, silent, as if she were alone in the depths of the primeval wilderness. Only the sound of the stir of the saddle with the breathing of the horse as the animal tramped on behind them, their muffled footfalls barely perceptible on the thick herbage of the cattle path, the light whisper of the wind in the leaves, broke the pause, while Jack Espey's touch trembled on the handle of the pistol as he walked beside her. Her calmness shook his own composure.