The men saw him too. They began to laugh. "Good one on Billy Knapp," they agreed. "He must be pretty hot when his axe gang don't come any." The girl overheard them. "What's that about Billy Knapp?" she asked sharply. "Didn't mean y' to hear, ma'am," replied the speaker. "Don' matter ez fur's we's concerned. But Billy, he aims to put up a shack to-day, gettin' ready for them tenderfeet that's comin' from Cheecawgo to look over th' property; an' he hires a lot of th' boys t' put it up fer him, an', you see, you runs off with 'most the hull outfit yere to build you a shack. So, natural, we thinks it makes Billy hot." "I see," said Molly. She reflected a moment. "Where is it?" she asked. "That's it, right to the lef'. And that's Billy walkin' 'round loose." They laughed again. Without a word she turned the animal she was riding sharp to the left, and began to mount the little knoll. The men followed in consternation. Billy's patience was not noted for its evenness. "Hullo, Billy!" she cried when she was near enough. "Good morning!" Billy had not at first caught sight of her, and was now plainly a little nonplussed over his unexpected guest. Clearly he could not at this moment "cuss out" the delinquents as they deserved. He removed his broad black hat. "Good mo'ning! Good mo'ning!" he replied to the girl's greeting. "Come up t' see th' wo'ks?" "Whoa!" called Molly. The men stopped. "No," she said flatly, "I didn't. Not to-day, that is. I'm busy. I'm hunting for good timber." Billy looked puzzled. "Timber?" he repeated. "Yes, timber. I'm going to have a shack built, and these boys are going to put it up for me." Thus she broke the news gently. Billy looked the men over one by one. He turned a slow red. "Huh!" he observed at last. "I thought they was goin' to wo'k fo' me!" "Did you?" asked Molly sweetly. "Well, they're not; at least, not now." That was categorical. Billy's wits did not respond to this sort of emergency very quickly. He did not want to be rude; he did not care to lose his men. Molly looked down. "Come here and tie my shoestring," she commanded, holding out her foot, and gripping the harness with both hands. Billy did not remember that he had ever seen so small a foot. He looked, fascinated. "Well!" she said impatiently. He raised his head and gazed plump into the imperious depths of a pair of blue eyes. His anger melted. He approached and attempted to tie the shoe. None but Molly ever knew how hard that horse was kicked by the other little shoe. Indeed, no one knew at all how it happened. Some of the eye-witnesses theorized concerning bumblebees. Others said horseflies. As to the main facts, there was no doubt--that he, the horse, gave a sudden startled plunge; that she, the girl, screamed slightly and started to fall; that he, Billy Knapp, caught her full in his arms, held her the fraction of a second, and set her lightly back on the again motionless animal.