But he was not deceived. He said: "There's a dance down near the Barnes place, and Pierre wants you to go with him." "Pierre! A dance?" He explained: "Dick's lost his head over a girl with yellow hair, and he wants me to go down and see her. He thought you might want to go along." Her face changed like the moon when a cloud blows across it. She answered with another slow, insolent yawn: "Thanks! I'm staying home tonight." Wilbur glared his rage covertly at Pierre, but the latter was blandly unconscious that he had made any _faux pas_. He said carelessly: "Too bad. It might be interesting. Jack?" At his voice she looked up--a sharp and graceful toss of her head. "What?" "The girl with the yellow hair." "Then go ahead and see her. I won't keep you. You don't mind if I go on sleeping? Sit down and be at home." With this she calmly turned her back again and seemed thoroughly disposed to carry out her word. Red Pierre flushed a little, watching her, and he spoke his anger outright: "You're acting like a sulky kid, Jack, not like a man." It was a habit of his to forget that she was a woman. Without turning her head she answered: "Do you want to know why?" "You're like a cat showing your claws. Go on! Tell me what the reason is." "Because I get tired of you." In all his life he had never been so scorned. He did not see the covert grin of Wilbur in the background. He blurted: "Tired?" "Awfully. You don't mind me being frank, do you, Pierre?" He could only stammer: "Sometimes I wish to God you _were_ a man, Jack!" "You don't often remember that I'm a woman." "Do you mean that I'm rude or rough with you, Jacqueline?" Still the silence, but Wilbur was grinning broader than ever. "Answer me!" She started up and faced him, her face convulsed with rage. "What do you want me to say? Yes, you are rude--I hate you and your lot. Go away from me; I don't want you; I hate you all." And she would have said more, but furious sobs swelled her throat and she could not speak, but dropped, face down, on the bunk and gripped the blankets in each hardset hand. Over her Pierre leaned, utterly bewildered, found nothing that he could say, and then turned and strode, frowning, from the room. Wilbur hastened after him and caught him just as the door was closing. "Come back," he pleaded. "This is the best game I've ever seen. Come back, Pierre! You've made a wonderful start." Pierre le Rouge shook off the detaining hand and glared up at Wilbur. "Don't try irony, Dick. I feel like murder. Think of it! All this time she's been hating me; and now it's making her weep; think of it--Jack--weeping!" "Why, you're a child, Pierre. She's in love with you." "With me?" "With Red Pierre." "You can't make a joke out of Jack with me. You ought to know that." "Pierre, I'd as soon make a joke out of a wildcat." "Grinning still? Wilbur, I'm taking more from you than I would from any man on the ranges."