dismay that found outlet in the fallen jaw and startled eyes.

In the stranger’s grin was triumphant malice. “You sure look glad to see me, Pete, and us such old friends too. Le’s see, I ain’t seen you since—since—” He stopped, as though his memory were at fault, but June sensed the hint of a threat in the uncompleted sentence.

Reluctantly Tolliver took the offered hand. His consternation seemed to have stricken him dumb.

“Ain’t you going to introduce yore old pal to the girl?” the big man asked.

Not willingly, the rancher found the necessary words. “June, meet Mr. Houck.”

June was putting the biscuits in the oven. She nodded an acknowledgment of the introduction. Back of the resentful eyes the girl’s brain was busy.

“Old side pardners, ain’t we, Pete?” Houck was jeering at him almost openly.

The older man mumbled what might be taken for an assent.

“Branded a heap of cattle, you ’n’ me. Eh, Pete?” The stranger settled deeper in the chair. “Jake Houck an’ you could talk over old times all night. We was frolicsome colts.”

Tolliver felt his hand forced. “Put off yore hat and wash up, Jake. You’ll stay to-night, o’ course.”

“Don’t mind if I do. I’m headed for Glenwood. Reckon I’d better put the horse up first.”

The two men left the cabin. When they returned half an hour later, the supper was on the table. June sat on the side nearest the stove and supplied the needs of the men. Coffee, hot biscuits, more venison, a second dish of gravy: no trained waiter could have anticipated their wants any better. If she was a bit sulky, she had reason for it. Houck’s gaze followed her like a searchlight. It noted the dark good looks of her tousled head, the slimness of the figure which moved so awkwardly, a certain flash of spirit in the undisciplined young face.

“How old’s yore girl?” the man asked his host.

Tolliver hesitated, trying to remember. “How old are you, June?”

“Going on sixteen,” she answered, eyes smouldering angrily.

This man’s cool, impudent appraisal of her was hateful, she felt.

He laughed at her manner, easily, insolently, for he was of the type that finds pleasure in the umbrage of women annoyed by his effrontery. Of the three the guest was the only one quite at his ease. Tolliver’s ingratiating jokes and the heartiness of his voice rang false. He was troubled, uncertain how to face the situation that had arisen.

His daughter reflected this constraint. Why did her father fear this big dominating fellow? What was the relation between them? Why did his very presence bring with it a message of alarm?

She left them before the stove as soon as the dishes were washed, retiring to the bedroom at the other end of the log cabin. Far into the night she heard them talking, in low voices that made an indistinct murmur. To the sound of them she fell asleep.

Houck rode away next morning after breakfast, but not before he had made a promise June construed as a threat.

“Be back soon, girl.”

Her eyes were on the corral, from which her father was driving the dogies. “What’s it to me?” she said with sullen resentment.

“More’n you think. I’ve took a fancy to you. When I come back I’ll talk business.”

The girl’s eyes did not turn toward him, but the color flooded the dark cheeks. “With Father maybe. Not with me. You’ve got no business to talk over with me.”

“Think so? Different here. Take a good look at me, June Tolliver.”

“What for?” Her glance traveled over him disdainfully to the hound puppy chasing its tail. She felt a strange excitement drumming in her veins. “I’ve seen folks a heap better worth lookin’ at.”

“Because I’m tellin’ you to.” His big hand caught her chin and swung it back. “Because I’m figurin’ on marryin’ you right soon.”

Her dark eyes blazed. They looked at him straight enough now. “Take yore hand off’n me. D’you hear?”

He laughed, slowly, delightedly. “You’re a spunky li’l’ devil. Suits me fine. Jake Houck never did like jog-trotters in harness.”

“Lemme go,” she ordered, and a small brown fist clenched.

“Not now, nor ever. You’re due to wear the Houck brand, girl.”

She struck, hard, with all the strength of her lithe and supple body. Above his cheek-bone a red streak leaped out where the sharp knuckles had crushed the flesh.

A second time he laughed, harshly. Her chin was still clamped in a vice-like grip that hurt. “I get a kiss for that, you vixen.” With a sweeping gesture he imprisoned both of the girl’s arms and drew the slim body to him. He kissed her, full on the lips, not once but half a dozen times, while she fought like a fury without the least avail.

Presently the man released her hands and chin.

“Hit me again if you like, and I’ll c’lect my pay prompt,” he jeered.

She was in a passionate flame of impotent anger. He had insulted her, trampled down the pride of her untamed youth, brushed away the bloom of her maiden modesty. And there was nothing she could do to make him pay. He was too insensitive to be reached by words, no matter how she pelted them at him.

A sob welled up from her heart. She turned and ran into the house.

Houck grinned, swung to the saddle, and rode up the valley. June would hate him good and plenty, he thought. That was all right. He had her in the hollow of his hand. All her thoughts would be full of him. After she quit struggling to escape she would come snuggling up to him with a girl’s shy blandishments. It was his boast that he knew all about women and their ways.

June was not given to tears. There was in her the stark pioneer blood that wrested the West in two generations from unfriendly nature. But the young virgin soul had been outraged. She lay on the bed of her room, face down, the nails of her fingers biting into the palms of the hands, a lump in the full brown throat choking her.

She was a wild, free thing of the hills, undisciplined by life. Back of June’s anger and offended pride lurked dread, as yet indefinite and formless. Who was this stranger who had swaggered into her life and announced himself its lord and master? She would show him his place, would teach him how ridiculous his pretensions were. But even as she clenched her teeth on that promise there rose before her a picture of the fellow’s straddling stride, of the fleering face with its intrepid eyes and jutting, square-cut jaw. He was stronger than she. No scruples would hold him back from the possession of his desires. She knew she would fight savagely, but a chill premonition of failure drenched the girl’s heart.

Later, she went out to the stable where Tolliver was riveting a broken tug. It was characteristic of the man that all his tools, harness, and machinery were worn out or fractured. He never brought a plough in out of the winter storms or mended a leak in the roof until the need was insistent. Yet he was not lazy. He merely did not know how to order affairs with any system.

“Who is that man?” June demanded.

He looked up, mildly surprised and disturbed at the