cattle-driving boor, ruling at Carnaby where my mother lived."

"Still," said Deringham, "the value is not inconsiderable, and Carnaby
would have been yours some day."

The girl made a gesture of impatience. "That is not my complaint," she
said. "I could have let it pass without bitterness to an Englishman
who would have lived in it in accordance with the traditions of his
race, but this man----"

"Will no doubt cut down the timber, open the fireclay pits, and
desecrate the park with brickworks," he said. "That is, unless he has
convivial proclivities, and, finding himself ostracized, fills Carnaby
with turf and billiard-room blacklegs."

The girl ground her heel viciously into the mould. "Have you any
reason for going into these details?" she said.

Deringham watched her closely. "I only wished you to understand the
position, and to remember that you and I are both to some extent at the
mercy of our rancher kinsman," he said.

He left her presently to seek the couch the teamster had prepared for
him, and Miss Deringham retired to the wagon. She found the bed of
cedar-twigs comfortable, but it was some time before she slept and
dreamed that a stranger dressed in coarse blue jean was holding high
revel in the Carnaby she loved. She was awakened by the howl of a
wolf, and lay still shivering, until she saw the tall, dusky figure of
the Canadian approach the fire and stand there as if on guard with the
red light upon him. Then with a curious sense of security she went to