"I don't intend to ride on." "Too tired?" He felt the clash of her will on his, even like flint against steel, whenever they spoke, and he began to wonder what spark would start a fire. It made him think of a game of poker, in a way, for he never knew what the next instant would place in his hands while the cards of chance were shuffled and dealt. Tired? There was a subtle, scoffing challenge hidden somewhere in that word. "No, but I don't intend to go any farther from Drew." Her smile grew more pronounced; she even looked to him with a frank amusement, for apparently she would not take him seriously. "If I were you, he'd be the last man I'd want to be near." "I suppose you would." As if she picked up the gauntlet, she turned squarely on the bunk and faced him. "You're going to hit the trail in an hour, understand?" It delighted him--set him thrilling with excitement to feel her open anger and the grip of her will against his; he had to force a frown in order to conceal a smile. "If I do, it will be to ride back toward Drew." Her lips parted to make an angry retort, and then he watched her steel herself with patience, like a mother teaching an old lesson to a child. "D'you know what you'd be like, wanderin' around these mountains without a guide?" "Well?" "Like a kid in a dark, lonesome room. You'd travel in a circle and fall into their hands in a day." "Possibly." She was still patient. "Follow me close, Bard. I mean that if you don't do what I say I'll cut loose and leave you alone here." He was silent, enjoying her sternness, glad to have roused her, no matter what the consequences; knowing that each second heightened the climax. Apparently she interpreted his speechlessness in a different way. She said after a moment: "That sounds like quittin' cold on you. I won't do it unless you try some fool thing like riding back toward Drew." He waited again as long as he dared, then: "Don't you see that the last thing I want is to keep you with me?" There was no pleasure in that climax. She sat with parted lips, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, staring at him. He became as vividly conscious of her femininity as he had been when she laughed in the dark. There was the same sustained pulsing, vital emotion in this silence. He explained hastily: "A girl's reputation is a fragile thing, Sally." And she recovered herself with a start, but not before he saw and understood. It was as if, in the midst of an exciting hand, with the wagers running high, he had seen her cards and knew that his own hand was higher. The pleasant sense of mastery made a warmth through him. "Meaning that they'd talk about me? Bard, they've already said enough things about me to fill a book--notes and all, with a bunch of pictures thrown in. What I can't live down I fight down, and no man never says the same thing twice about me. It ain't healthy. If that's all that bothers you, close your eyes and let me lead you out of this mess."