"I should think," remarked the girl casually after his fourth ineffectual effort to start the engine, "that if she owns a ranch, she might buy a better buzz wagon than this." He made no reply, but renewed his futile attempts at starting, muttering words softly the while. "Don't be sore, Kurt. I can't help it because your old ark won't budge. I didn't steal anything off it. Wouldn't it be fierce if you were marooned on the trail with a thief who has a lifelong record!" He came around the car and stood beside her. His face was flushed. His eyes, of the deep-set sombre kind that grow larger and come to the surface only when strongly moved, burned with the light of anger. "Did anyone ever try whipping you, I wonder?" "Sure," she said cheerfully. "I was brought up on whippings by a--stepmother. But do you feel that way toward me? You look like a man who might strike a woman under certain provocation, perhaps; but not like one who would hit a little girl like me. If you won't look so cross, I'll tell you why your 'mobile won't move." He made no reply, but turned to the brake. "Say, 'bo," she continued tantalizingly, "whilst you are a lookin', just cast your lamps into the gasoline tank. That man who filled it didn't put a widow's mite in." Unbelievingly he followed this lead. "Not a drop, damn it!" "The last straw with you, isn't it? I'm not to blame, though. If you think I stole your gasoline, just search me. How far are we from your tiptop tavern?" "Twenty miles. I suppose you couldn't walk it," he said doubtfully. "Me? In these?" she exclaimed, thrusting forth a foot illy and most inadequately shod. "But you can walk on." "No:" he refused. "You don't put one over on me in that way." "You know I couldn't walk back to town." "Some one might come along in a car." "Wouldn't you trust me, if I gave you my word to wait for you?" "The word of--" "A thief," she finished. "All right. I'm in no hurry. What are you going to do?" "We'll wait here until some one comes along." "Then let's go back to the trees while we wait," she proposed, climbing out of the car and taking a small box from the seat. "Didn't Bender have one tiny good word for me?" she asked as they sat down in the welcome shade. "He said stealing was the only offense you'd been up for, and he guessed you couldn't help it. What was your little game in making him think you were stupid?" "Did he say I was? Horrid thing! I'm glad I put one over on him and lifted this," and she held up the box. "What is it?" he demanded sternly. "His supper. A peroxided wife brought it to him--just before he presented me to you. It'll come in handy now, or won't you partake of stolen goods?" "I'll pay him for it the next time I see him."