“The livelier it gets. Yes, I've heard that a million tunes, I believe. I can't laugh at that; I never did think it funny.” She sighed, and twitched her shoulders impatiently because of it. “I see you brought back the glasses,” she remarked inanely. “You certainly weren't in any great hurry, were you?” “Oh, they had us riding over east of the home ranch, hazing in some outa the hills. I'm supposed to be over there right now--but I ain't. I expect I'll get the can, all right--” “If you're going away, what do you care?” she taunted. “H'm--sure, what do I care?” He eyed her from under his brows while he bent to light a match upon the sole of his boot. Val had long ago settled his compunctions about smoking in her presence. “You seem to be all tore up, here,” he observed irrelevantly. “Cleaning house?” “Yes--cleaning house.” Val smiled ambiguously. “Hubby in town?” “Yes--he went in yesterday, and hasn't come back yet.” Kent smoked for a moment meditatively. “I found that calf, all right,” he informed her at last. “It was too late to ride around this way and tell you that night. So you needn't worry any more about that.” “I'm not worrying about that.” Val stooped and picked up a hairpin from the floor, and twirled it absently in her fingers. “I don't think it matters, any more. Yesterday afternoon Fred De Garmo and Polycarp Jenks came into the coulee with a bunch of cattle, and turned all the calves out of the river field with them; and, after a little, they drove the whole lot of them away somewhere--over that way.” She waved a slim hand to the west. “They let out the calves in the corral, too. I saw them from the window, but I didn't ask them any questions. I really didn't need to, did I?” She grazed him with a glance. “I thought perhaps you had failed to find that calf; I'm glad you did, though--so it wasn't that started them hunting around here--Polycarp and Fred I mean.” Kent looked at her queerly. Her voice was without any emotion whatever, as if the subject held no personal interest for her. He finished his cigarette and threw the stub out into the yard before either of them spoke another word. He closed the door again, stood there for a minute making up his mind, and went slowly over to where she was sitting listlessly in a chair, her hands folded loosely in her lap. He gripped with one hand the chairback and stared down at her high-piled, yellow hair. “How long do you think I'm going to stand around and let you be dragged into trouble like this?” he began abruptly. “You know what I told you the other day--I could say the same thing over again, and a lot more; and I'd mean more than I could find words for. Maybe you can stand this sort of thing--I can't. I'm not going to try. If you're bound to stick to that--that gentleman, I'm going to get outa the country where I can't see you killed by inches. Every time I come, you're a little bit whiter, and a little bigger-eyed--I can't stand it, I tell you!