There was a murmur of low-voiced protest as Virginia pleaded his cause and then, as the Widow burst out anew, the young man pushed back his chair. His blue eyes, half hidden beneath bulging brows, turned a steely, fighting gray, his wind-blown hair fairly bristled; and as he listened to the last of the Widow's remarks his lower lip was thrust up scornfully. "You danged old heifer," he muttered and then the kitchen door flew open. The baleful look which he had intended for the Widow was surprised on his face by Virginia and after a startled moment she closed the door behind her. "Why--Wiley Holman!" she cried accusingly and a challenge leapt into his eyes. "Well?" he demanded and gazed at her sullenly as she scanned him from head to foot. "I knew it," she burst out. "I'd know that stubborn look anywhere! You double up your lip like your father. Honest John!" she added sarcastically and brushed some crumbs from the table. "Yes--Honest John!" he retorted. "And you don't need to say it like that, either. He's my father--I know him--and I'll tell you right now he never cheated a man in his life." "Well, he did!" she flared back, her eyes dark with anger, "and I'll bet--I'll bet if my father was here he'd--he'd prove it to your face!" She ended in a sob and as he saw the tears starting the son of Honest John relented. "Aw, Virginia," he pleaded, "what's the use of always fighting? He's gone now, so let's be friends. I was just going by when I saw you on the gallery, and I thought--well, let's you and I be friends." "What? After old Honest John robbed Papa of the Paymaster, and then hounded him to his death on the desert?" "He did nothing of the kind--he never robbed anybody! And as for hounding your father to his death, the Old Man never even knew about it. He was down on the ranch, and when they told him the news----" "Yes, that's you," she railed, stifling back her sobs, "you can always prove an alibi. But you'd better drift, Mr. Holman; because if mother knows you're here----" "Well, what?" he demanded, truculently. "She'll fill you full of buckshot." "Pah!" he scoffed and snapped his fingers in the air, after which he lapsed into silence. "Well, she will," she asserted, after waiting for him to speak, but Wiley only grunted. "Wait till I get that dinner," he said at last and slumped down into a chair. He muttered to himself, gazing dubiously towards the kitchen, and turned impatiently to look at some specimens in a case against the wall. They were the usual chunks of high-grade gold ore, but he examined one piece with great care. "Where'd you get this?" he asked, holding up a piece of white rock, and she sighed and brushed away her tears. "Over on the dump," she answered wearily. "That's all Paymaster ore. Don't you think you'd better go?" "Never ran away yet," he answered briefly and balanced the rock in his hand. "Pretty heavy," he observed, "I'll bet it would assay. Have you got very much on the dump?"