June came to an abrupt halt by the side of the carriage. She stood without movement or sound, paralyzed by the unexpectedness of the unknown voice and face. For the first dazed moment following on the shock there was a complete suspension of all her faculties. There had been much surreptitious speculation in the livery stable as to whom Jerry Barclay was driving into Reno. The man now in the buggy had been sure it was a woman. Seeing his suspicions verified he tried to distinguish her features through the darkness and the veil she wore. He leaned forward, eying her keenly, but making out nothing beyond a slender shape, the face concealed by a film of gauze. “He’s probably been detained at the mine,” he said cheeringly. “They’ve that gang of Easterners goin’ down this afternoon.” The girl made no answer, but drew back a step or two from the carriage. “If you’ll get in I’ll drive you up and down for a spell,” he said. “It’s cold work standin’ round on a night like this.” “No,” she answered in a muffled voice; “no.” “Put your bag in, anyway,” he suggested, stretching a hand for it. She drew back another step and moved the hand holding the bag behind her. “Just as you like,” he returned, the familiarity of his manner suddenly chilled by annoyance. “It’s for you to say.” She retreated still farther until stopped by a growth of sage at the edge of the road. The man, seeing he could discover nothing from her, gathered up his reins. “Well,” he said, “I can’t run no risks with the finest team in the state of Nevada. I’ll have to walk ’em up and down till Mr. Barclay gets here. He said he’d be before time, and he’s nearly fifteen minutes late now.” He chirped to the horses, who immediately started on a gentle trot. The dust muffled their hoof-beats, and noiselessly, with something of stealth and mystery in the soft swiftness of their withdrawal, they receded into the blackness of the night. June stood for a moment looking after them, then turned to where the town sparkled in descending tiers of streets. Its noise came to her ears, the hum of human voices, and suddenly the misery that had held her in a state of broken acquiescence all day, that had been growing in her for weeks, rose into a climax of terrified revolt. The full horror of her action burst upon her. In a flash of revelation she saw it clearly, unblinded by passion. Her repulsion toward Jerry’s wooing surged up in her in a frantic desire to escape, to get away from him. She feared him, she longed to creep away and hide from him--the terrible Jerry, her merciless master, before whom she cowered and trembled.