Except for this steady lift from seven thousand feet at Black Gorge to eight thousand feet at the base of Dead Line and Falkner's Peaks, the valley was as level as a floor. The sun was setting as the two left the post-office. Lost Chief Range, on their right, was black against fire. The snow of the valley was as blue as indigo. A gentle but bitterly cold wind rose from the east. Prince, yelping, set off after a skulking coyote. When he had disappeared beyond a distant herd grazing through the snow, Judith pushed her horse up beside Buster. "Doug, am I any scrappier than the rest of them?" Douglas, his cigarette hanging negligently from a corner of his mouth, nodded. "Well, I have to be, Doug," insisted Judith. "No, you don't. You just look for trouble, all the time. Why do you have to be?" "Who is there to look out for me?" demanded the girl, chin in the air. "Pshaw! You don't need a guard, do you? Besides, what's the matter with me?" "Huh! You don't really care what happens to me. I'm not your real sister and you never forget it. I'm lonely." Douglas gave her a curious glance. Was she, he wondered, experiencing that feeling of loneliness and longing which had been haunting him for months? He wanted to ask her about it but he could not. She laughed at him too easily. They rode on in silence for a while, Judith's thin young body sagging dejectedly in the saddle. The lavendar twilight was gathering. White stars hung within hand touch. Prince returned to the trail and a coyote barked derisively from beyond an alfalfa stack. "Douglas," exclaimed Judith suddenly, "if I thought when I got married, my husband would treat me like Dad does Mother, I'd never get married. Getting married in real life isn't a bit like the books show it." Douglas grunted. "I wouldn't worry about getting married for a few years yet." "I'm fourteen," returned Judith. "I've got a right to think about it. Don't you ever?" "No." "You think about girls, though," insisted Judith. "That isn't thinking about marrying, is it?" "What do you think about mostly, Doug?" Douglas sighed. "It's hard to say. I've been awful sad lately. I don't know why. I think about that and I plan a lot about what I'm going to do when I finish school." "Would you like to marry Maud Day?" "Who's talking about marrying!" shouted Doug with sudden and overwhelming exasperation. "What makes you such a fool, Jude?" "How can I help talking about it when it's my mother your father's so rough with. Of course, you don't care." "I do, too, care. I think a lot of her, but he don't mean half he says." "Well, he'd better begin to stop knocking me around when he's mad, or I'll run away." "Especially in the winter, I suppose," sniffed Douglas, "when it would be plain suicide." "I don't care if it's in a blizzard," insisted Judith. "When I've had enough, I'll go." Douglas laughed. "Hanged if I don't think you would, too, Jude. You've got the nerve of a wolverine."