She was ashamed of herself--that she should have been afraid of a dog! Now she was Lynette again, quick and capable and confident. He was going to lend her a hand to mount; she forestalled him and went up into the saddle like a flash. It was in her thought to take him by surprise; to give Daylight his head and race away out of sight among the pines.... But he was scarcely less quick; his hand shot out, catching Daylight's reins; he unwound the chain from about his middle and snapped the catch into the horse's bit.... And she began to analyze, thinking: "He took time to explain why he let me ride while he walked! He is less beast and brute than he knows himself!... Less beast and brute than ... simple humbug!" And, before they had gone ten steps, he heard her humming the air which she had sung at breakfast time. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, not for her to hear. "The little devil ... she's taking advantage of me, every advantage. She.... Just the same ... just the same...." And he, too, was wondering about Babe Deveril! "We go this way," he said. "I'll lead; you follow." "I know!" cried Lynette; she could not hold the words back. "Toward Buck Valley and Big Bear Creek ... and Mexicali Joe. And...." "And what?" he demanded, snatching at her chain, sensing that something of import lay behind the abruptly checked words. She only laughed at him. CHAPTER XIV Another day of wilderness wandering. A cabin sighted, but so far away that it was merely a vague dot upon a distant ridge; miner's shack or sheepman's or wood-cutter's? Housing an occupant or deserted for years? No smoke from the rock chimney; no sign of any human being near it. And all view of it so soon lost!... And, afterward, no other human habitation of any kind; no road man-made; only trees and rocks, gorges and ridges and brush, and a winding way to be chosen between them. With, always, Bruce Standing driving on and on, relentlessly on, ever deeper into the wilderness. A day of life like a leaf torn out of the book of hell for Lynette. He did not speak to her as they went on from dawn to noon and from noon until afternoon shadows gathered; he did not so much as turn his eyes full upon her own; for the most part he seemed altogether forgetful of the fact that, besides himself, there was another of his species in all the wide sweep of this land of mighty solitudes. For his dog, Thor, he had a kindly though rough-spoken word now and then; for his horse a word or a rude pat upon the shoulder or hip; for her nothing but his utter, unruffled silence.... At times she hummed little snatches of gay tunes, hoping to irritate him; at times she strove for an aloofness to match his own. Countless times she looked over her shoulder, looking for Babe Deveril. And so the day, a long day, went by until at last it was late afternoon. "Here we stop," said Standing abruptly. "Get down."