“Are you goin' to ask me in?” queried Carmichael, bluntly. “It's cold--an' I've got somethin' to say to--” “To ME? Well, you're not backward, I declare,” retorted Bo. “Miss Rayner, I reckon it 'll be strange to you--findin' out I didn't come to see you.” “Indeed! No. But what was strange was the deluded idea I had--that you meant to apologize to me--like a gentleman.... Come in, Mr. Carmichael. My sister is here.” The door closed as Helen turned round. Carmichael stood just inside with his sombrero in hand, and as he gazed at Bo his lean face seemed hard. In the few months since autumn he had changed--aged, it seemed, and the once young, frank, alert, and careless cowboy traits had merged into the making of a man. Helen knew just how much of a man he really was. He had been her mainstay during all the complex working of the ranch that had fallen upon her shoulders. “Wal, I reckon you was deluded, all right--if you thought I'd crawl like them other lovers of yours,” he said, with cool deliberation. Bo turned pale, and her eyes fairly blazed, yet even in what must have been her fury Helen saw amaze and pain. “OTHER lovers? I think the biggest delusion here is the way you flatter yourself,” replied Bo, stingingly. “Me flatter myself? Nope. You don't savvy me. I'm shore hatin' myself these days.” “Small wonder. I certainly hate you--with all my heart!” At this retort the cowboy dropped his head and did not see Bo flaunt herself out of the room. But he heard the door close, and then slowly came toward Helen. “Cheer up, Las Vegas,” said Helen, smiling. “Bo's hot-tempered.” “Miss Nell, I'm just like a dog. The meaner she treats me the more I love her,” he replied, dejectedly. To Helen's first instinct of liking for this cowboy there had been added admiration, respect, and a growing appreciation of strong, faithful, developing character. Carmichael's face and hands were red and chapped from winter winds; the leather of wrist-bands, belt, and boots was all worn shiny and thin; little streaks of dust fell from him as he breathed heavily. He no longer looked the dashing cowboy, ready for a dance or lark or fight. “How in the world did you offend her so?” asked Helen. “Bo is furious. I never saw her so angry as that.” “Miss Nell, it was jest this way,” began Carmichael. “Shore Bo's knowed I was in love with her. I asked her to marry me an' she wouldn't say yes or no.... An', mean as it sounds--she never run away from it, thet's shore. We've had some quarrels--two of them bad, an' this last's the worst.” “Bo told me about one quarrel,” said Helen. “It was--because you drank--that time.” “Shore it was. She took one of her cold spells an' I jest got drunk.” “But that was wrong,” protested Helen. “I ain't so shore. You see, I used to get drunk often--before I come here. An' I've been drunk only once. Back at Las Vegas the outfit would never believe thet. Wal, I promised Bo I wouldn't do it again, an' I've kept my word.”