She handed him the horsewhip, a sudden pulse of passion beating
fiercely in her throat. "Very well. Make an end of it and let me see
the last of you," she challenged.

He cracked the lash expertly so that the horses quivered and would
have started if his strong hand had not tightened on the lines.

The Westerner laughed again. "You're game anyhow."

"When you are quite through with me," she suggested, very quietly.

But he noticed the fury of her deep-pupiled eyes, the turbulent rise
and fall of her bosom.

"I'll not punish you that way this time." And he gave back the whip.

"If you won't use it I will."

The lash flashed up and down, twined itself savagely round his wrist,
and left behind a bracelet of crimson. Startled, the horses leaped
forward. The reins slipped free from his numbed fingers. Miss Kinney
had made her good-by and was descending swiftly into the valley.

The man watched the rig sweep along that branch of the road which led
to the south. Then he looked at his wrist and laughed.

"The plucky little devil! She's a thoroughbred for fair. You bet I'll
make her pay for this. But ain't she got sand in her craw? She's
surely hating me proper." He laughed again in remembrance of the whole