“Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin' into the ring a-feelin' THAT WAY.” Her eyes met his, defiantly. “What's the difference? What's the difference?” She wrenched her wrist quickly from him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing hysterically. “And I brung her back to it,” mumbled Jim as he turned to give orders to the property men. Most of the “first-half props” were loaded, and some of the men were asleep under the wagons. The lot was clear. Suddenly he felt some one approaching from the back of the enclosure. He turned and found himself face to face with the stern, solitary figure of the pastor, wrapped in his long, black cloak. The moonlight slipped through a rift in the clouds, and fell in a circle around them. “What made you come here?” was all Jim said. “I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day. I was afraid she might be ill.” “What's that to you?” “She ISN'T ill?” Douglas demanded anxiously, oblivious to the gruffness in the big fellow's voice. “She's all right,” Jim answered shortly as he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and avoided the pastor's burning gaze. “And she's happy? she's content?” “Sure.” “I'm glad,” said Douglas, dully. He tried to think of some way to prolong their talk. “I've never heard from her, you know.” “Us folks don't get much time to write.” Jim turned away and began tinkering with one of the wagons. Douglas had walked up and down in front of the tents again and again, fighting against a desire to do the very thing that he was doing, but to no purpose, and now that he was here, it seemed impossible that he should go away so unsatisfied. He crossed to Jim and came determinedly to the point. “Can't I see her, Jim?” “It's agin the rules.” He did not turn. There was another pause, then Douglas started slowly out of the lot. “Wait a minute,” called Jim, as though the words had been wrung from him. The pastor came back with a question in his eyes. “I lied to you.” “She's NOT well, then?” “Oh, yes, she's well enough. It ain't that; it's about her being happy.” “She isn't?” There was a note of unconscious exultation in his voice. “No. She AIN'T happy here, and she WAS happy WITH YOU.” “Then, why did she leave me?” “I don't know. She wasn't goin' ter do it at first. Somethin' must a-happened afterwards, somethin' that you an' me didn't know about.” “We WILL know about it, Jim. Where is she?” His quick eye searched the lot. His voice had regained it's old command. He felt that he could conquer worlds. “You can't do no good that way,” answered Jim. “She don't want ter see you again.” “Why not?” “I don't know, but she told me she'd run away if I ever even talked to you about her.” “You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself. Where is she?” “She'll be comin' out soon. You can wait around out here with me. I'll let you know in time.” He led the way through a narrow passage between the wagons.