Bostil meant to ask her then if she in any sense returned the rider's love, but unaccountably he could not put the question. The girl was as true as ever--as good as gold. Bostil feared a secret that might hurt him. Just as sure as life was there and death but a step away, some rider, sooner or later, would win this girl's love. Bostil knew that, hated it, feared it. Yet he would never give his girl to a beggarly rider. Such a man as Wetherby ought to win Lucy's hand. And Bostil did not want to know too much at present; he did not want his swift-mounting animosity roused so soon. Still he was curious, and, wanting to get the drift of Lucy's mind, he took to his old habit of teasing. "Another moonstruck rider!" he said. "Your eyes are sure full moons, Lucy. I'd be ashamed to trifle with these poor fellers." "Dad!" "You're a heartless flirt--same as your mother was before she met ME." "I'm not. And I don't believe mother was, either," replied Lucy. It was easy to strike fire from her. "Wal, you did dead wrong to ride out there day after day meetin' Slone, because--young woman--if he ever has the nerve to ask me for you I'll beat him up bad." "Then you'd be a brute!" retorted Lucy. "Wal, mebbe," returned Bostil, secretly delighted and surprised at Lucy's failure to see through him. But she was looking inward. He wondered what hid there deep in her. "But I can't stand for the nerve of thet." "He--he means to--to ask you." "The h----.... A-huh!" Lucy did not catch the slip of tongue. She was flushing now. "He said he'd never have let me meet him out there alone--unless--he--he loved me--and as our neighbors and the riders would learn of it--and talk--he wanted you and them to know he'd asked to--to marry me." "Wal, he's a square young man!" ejaculated Bostil, involuntarily. It was hard for Bostil to hide his sincerity and impulsiveness; much harder than to hide unworthy attributes. Then he got back on the other track. "That'll make me treat him decent, so when he rides up to ask for you I'll let him off with, 'No!" Lucy dropped her head. Bostil would have given all he had, except his horses, to feel sure she did not care for Slone. "Dad--I said--'No'--for myself," she murmured. This time Bostil did not withhold the profane word of surprise. "... So he's asked you, then? Wal, wal! When?" "To-day--out there in the rocks where he waited with Wildfire for me. He--he--" Lucy slipped into her father's arms, and her slender form shook. Bostil instinctively felt what she then needed was her mother. Her mother was dead, and he was only a rough, old, hard rider. He did not know what to do--to say. His heart softened and he clasped her close. It hurt him keenly to realize that he might have been a better, kinder father if it were not for the fear that she would find him out. But that proved he loved her, craved her respect and affection. "Wal, little girl, tell me," he said. "He--he broke his word to me."