Mr. Chester slapped the reins, clucked to the horse, and bent his gaze down upon the girl. He had seated himself all too close. She crowded herself against the iron seat-rail. It annoyed her a little; it embarrassed her still more. She was slightly relieved when he made a beginning of conversation. "So you're Judge Tiffany's niece, the girl who runs her ranch herself. I've heard heaps about you." "Yes?" Embarrassment came back with the sound of her own voice. She could talk to Judge Tiffany or to any man of Judge Tiffany's age, but with her male contemporaries she felt always this same constraint. And this young man was looking on her insistently, as though demanding answers. "They say you're one of the smartest ranchers in these parts," he went on. "Do they?" Her tone was even and inexpressive. But Mr. Chester kept straight along the path he was treading. "And that you're also the prettiest girl around Santa Lucia." "That's very kind of them." "I haven't seen your ranch, but about the rest of it they're dead right." To this, she made no answer. "I'm just down for a few weeks," he went on, changing the subject when he perceived that he had drawn no reply. "I'm a Senior next year at Berkeley. Ever been over to Berkeley?" "Yes." "Ever go to any of the class dances?" "No." "Thought you might, being in the city winters. I'm not much on dances myself. I'm a barb." He peered, as though expecting that this last statement would evoke some answer. But her eyes were fixed on the little group of buildings--a bungalow, a barn and a corral--which had just come in sight around a turn of the orchard road. For the first time, she spoke with animation. "There's the house--and there he is, just back of the stable!" Dynamo, the bull, a black and tan patch amidst the greenery, stood reaching with his tongue at an overhanging prune branch, bowed to the breaking point with green beads of fruit. As they watched, he sucked its tip between his blue lips, pulled at it with a twist of his head; the branch cracked and broke. Dynamo, his eyes closed in meditative enjoyment, started to absorb it from end to end. "Oh, dear, he'll ruin it!" she cried. "Do hurry! Hadn't you better send for help?" "I figure I can handle him," said Bertram Chester, bristling at the imputation. "Just give me that halter and drive in back of the corral, will you?" "Please don't let him trample any trees!" she called after her champion as he vaulted the fence.