The supervisor shared the ranger's view, and smiled at "the pot calling the kettle black." And so matters drifted along till in one way or another the Kitsongs had set the whole upper valley against the hermits and Watson (in his cups) repeatedly said: "That fellow has no business in there. That's my grass. He stole it from me." His resentment grew with repetition of his fancied grievance, and at last he made threats. "He's an outlaw, that's what he is--and as for that woman, well, I'm going up there some fine day and snatch the bunnit off her and see what she really looks like!" "Better go slow," urged one of his friends. "That chap looks to me like one of the old guard. _He_ may have something to say about your doings with his daughter." Watson only grinned. "He ain't in no position to object if she don't--and I guess I can manage her," he ended with drunken swagger. Occasionally Hanscom met the woman on the trail or in the town, and always spoke in friendly greeting. The first time he spoke she lifted her head like a scared animal, but after that she responded with a low, "Howdy, sir?" and her voice (coming from the shadow of her ugly headgear) was unexpectedly clear and sweet. Although he was never able to see her face, something in her bearing and especially in her accent pleased and stirred him. Without any special basis for it, he felt sorry for her and resolved to help her, and when one day he met her on the street and asked, in friendly fashion, "How are you to-day?" she looked up at him and replied, "Very well, thank you, sir," and he caught a glimpse of a lovely chin and a sad and sensitive mouth. "She's had more than her share of trouble, that girl has," he thought as he passed on. Thereafter a growing desire to see her eyes, to hear her voice, troubled him. Kauffman stopped him on the road next day and said: "I am Bavarian, and in my country we respect the laws of the forest. I honor your office, and shall regard all your regulations. I have a few cattle which will naturally graze in the forest. I wish to take out a permit for them." To this Hanscom cordially replied: "Sure thing. That's what I'm here for. And if you want any timber for your corrals just let me know and I'll fix you out." Kauffman thanked him and rode on. As the weeks passed Hanscom became more and more conscious of the strange woman's presence in the valley. He gave, in truth, a great deal of thought to her, and twice deliberately rode around that way in the hope of catching sight of her. He could not rid himself of a feeling of pity. The vision of her delicately modeled chin and the sorrowful droop in the line of her lips never left him. He wished--and the desire was more than curiosity--to meet her eyes, to get the full view of her face.