"Some." Sheila continued to brush the dust from her skirts. After answering Duncan's question, however, she realized that there had been a subtle undercurrent of meaning in his voice, and she turned and looked sharply at him. "Why?" she demanded. "Do you mean that father has visited Dakota?" "I reckon I'm meaning just that." Sheila did not like the expression in Duncan's eyes, and her chin was raised a little as she turned from him and gave her attention to flecking the grass near her with the lash of her riding whip. "Father attends to his own business," she said with some coldness, for she resented Duncan's apparent desire to interfere. "I told you that before. What he does in a business way does not interest me." "No?" said Duncan mockingly. "Well, he's made some sort of a deal with Dakota!" he snapped, aware of his lack of wisdom in telling her this, but unable to control his resentment over the slight which had been imposed on him by Langford, and by her own chilling manner, which seemed to emphasize the fact that he had been left outside their intimate councils. "A deal?" said Sheila quickly, unable to control her interest. For a moment he did not answer. He felt her gaze upon him, and he met it, smiling mysteriously. Under the sudden necessity of proving his statement, his thoughts centered upon the conclusion which had resulted from his suspicions--that Langford's visit to Dakota concerned Doubler. Equivocation would have taken him safely away from the pitfall into which his rash words had almost plunged him, but he felt that any evasion now would only bring scorn into the eyes which he wished to see alight with something else. Besides, here was an opportunity to speak a derogatory word about his enemy, and he could not resist--could not throw it carelessly aside. There was a venomous note in his voice when he finally answered: "The other day your father was speaking to me about gun-men. I told him that Dakota would do anything for money." A slow red appeared in Sheila's cheeks, mounted to her temples, disappeared entirely and was succeeded by a paleness. She kept her gaze averted, and Duncan could not see her eyes--they were turned toward the slumberous plains that stretched away into the distance on the other side of the river. But Duncan knew that he had scored, and was not bothered over the possibility of there being little truth in his implied charge. He watched her, gloating over her, certain that at a stroke he had effectually eliminated Dakota as a rival. Sheila turned suddenly to him. "How do you know that Dakota would do anything like that?" Duncan smiled as he saw her lips, straight and white, and tightening coldly.