Yes, Marion could understand that, but--She was not satisfied. There was something missing from Seth's narrative. Haig's accusations that day at the post-office--his missing cattle, and the cut wires at the Forbidden Pasture--And if all that Seth had said was true, which she doubted, the mystery was only deepened. She was sure that Haig was only playing a part, that he was not a cattleman by choice, and that his heart was not in the game, whatever it was. She wanted to ask questions, but refrained, lest she should again arouse Seth's suspicions. She would see Smythe. CHAPTER X STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL The next afternoon Huntington, with painful diffidence, yet anxious to come to some sort of terms with Marion, proposed that she should begin her shooting lessons. She acquiesced in a manner that relieved him immensely, for she, on her side, was sorely in need of distraction. So they were presently on the hillside behind the ranch house with the rifles,--Seth's Winchester and the little Savage he had bought for Claire, who, to his great disappointment, did not like guns, and never could be taught to see the sights with one eye closed. His delight, therefore, was unbounded when Marion took to the Savage with almost the quick adaptability of a man. True, her first shots went high and wild among the foliage, but she was fast getting the grip of the gun, and had actually once scraped the bark of the tree on which the target of white paper was tacked, when they were hailed by a cheerful voice demanding permission for an unarmed and perfectly harmless man to approach. "Smythe!" growled Huntington, resenting the interruption. Then aloud, as heartily as he could: "Hello, Smythe! You're quite safe." "What's going on here, anyhow?" asked Smythe. "Where are your boasted powers of observation?" retorted Marion. "It's more polite to ask." "In Paradise Park?" she queried, in a tone of mild surprise. Seth's face reddened as he stooped over a half-empty cartridge-box. He had congratulated himself too soon. But while Smythe and Marion exchanged more badinage he refilled the magazine of the Savage, and held it ready. "Will you have another try?" he asked. "Yes, please, if Mr. Smythe will only keep still. I know I can never hit anything if he talks." "I'm mum!" he answered. The first shot went wild. So, indeed, the second and third. "There! What did I tell you?" cried Marion petulantly. "But I didn't say a word!" protested Smythe. "What were you thinking, then?" "What a charming Diana--" "Don't think any more, please!" "But I can't stop thinking!" "In that case you'd better talk. You certainly talk enough without thinking." "Bull's-eye!" he cried joyously. "Now try again!" "I suppose I must learn not to be bothered."