"It ain't no regular heaven, and I ain't no regular Mrs. Saint Peter," answered Mrs. Dick with considerable heat, irritated by Bostwick's personality and recognizing in him Van's "smoke-faced Easterner." She added crisply: "So you might as well vamoose the ranch, fer I couldn't even put you in the shed." "But I've got to have accommodations!" insisted Bostwick. "I prefer them where my fiancee--where Miss Kent is stopping. I'm sure you can manage it someway--let someone go. The price is no object to me." "I don't want you that bad," said Mrs. Dick frankly. "I said no and I'm too busy to say it again." She bustled off with her ant-like celerity, followed by Bostwick's scowls. "You'll have to give up your apartments here," he said to Beth. "I'll find something better at once." "Thank you, I'm very well satisfied," said Beth. "You'll find this town quite overcrowded." "You mean you propose to stay here in spite of my wishes?" "Please don't wish anything absurd," she answered. "This is really no place for fastidious choosing--and I am very comfortable." A lanky youth, with a suitcase and three leather bags, came shuffling around the corner and dropped down his load. "Van told me to bring 'em here with his--something I don't remember," imparted the youth. "That's all," and he grinned and departed. Bostwick glowered, less pleased than before. "That fellow, I presume. He evidently knows where you are stopping." Beth was beginning to feel annoyed and somewhat defiant. She had never dreamed this man could appear so repellant as now, with his stubble of beard and this convict garb upon him. She met his glance coldly. "He found me the place. I am considerably in his obligation." Bostwick's face grew blacker. "Obligation? Why don't you admit at once you admire the fellow?--or something more. By God! I've endured about as much----" "Mr. Bostwick!" she interrupted. She added more quietly: "You've been very much aggravated. I'm sorry. Now please go somewhere and change your clothing." "Aggravated?" he echoed. "You ought to know what he is, by instinct. You must have seen him in a common street brawl! You must have seen that woman--that red-light night-hawk throwing herself in his arms. And to think that you--with Glenmore in town---- Why isn't your brother here with you?" Beth was smarting. The sense of mortification she had felt at the sight of that woman in the street with Van, coupled with the sheer audacity of his conduct towards herself that morning, had already sufficiently shamed her. She refused, however, to discuss such a question with Bostwick. "Glen isn't here," she answered coldly. "I trust you will soon be enabled to find him--then--we can go." "Not here?" repeated Bostwick. "Where is he, then?" "Somewhere out in another camp--or mining place--or something. Now please go and dress. We can talk it over later." "This is abominable of Glen," said Bostwick. "Is McCoppet in town?"