FOREWORD
ItwasinevitablethatinmyeffortstowriteromantichistoryofthegreatWestIshouldatlengthcometothestoryofafeud。ForlongIhavesteeredclearofthisrock。ButatlastIhavereacheditandmustgooverit，drivenbymydesiretochroniclethestirringeventsofpioneerdays。
Evento—dayitisnotpossibletotravelintotheremotecornersoftheWestwithoutseeingthelivesofpeoplestillaffectedbyafightingpast。HowcanthetruthbetoldaboutthepioneeringoftheWestifthestruggle，thefight，thebloodbeleftout？Itcannotbedone。Howcananovelbestirringandthrilling，aswerethosetimes，unlessitbefullofsensation？Mylonglaborshavebeendevotedtomakingstoriesresemblethetimestheydepict。IhavelovedtheWestforitsvastness，itscontrast，itsbeautyandcolorandlife，foritswildnessandviolence，andforthefactthatI
haveseenhowitdevelopedgreatmenandwomenwhodiedunknownandunsung。
Inthismaterialisticage，thishard，practical，swift，greedyageofrealism，itseemsthereisnoplaceforwritersofromance，noplaceforromanceitself。Formanyyearsalltheeventsleadinguptothegreatwarwererealistic，andthewaritselfwashorriblyrealistic，andtheaftermathislikewise。Romanceisonlyanothernameforidealism;andIcontendthatlifewithoutidealsisnotworthliving。Neverinthehistoryoftheworldwereidealsneededsoterriblyasnow。WalterScottwroteromance;sodidVictorHugo;
andlikewiseKipling，Hawthorne，Stevenson。ItwasStevenson，particularly，whowieldedabludgeonagainsttherealists。Peopleliveforthedreamintheirhearts。AndIhaveyettoknowanyonewhohasnotsomesecretdream，somehope，howeverdim，somestoriedwalltolookatinthedusk，somepaintedwindowleadingtothesoul。
Howstrangeindeedtofindthattherealistshaveidealsanddreams！
Toreadthemonewouldthinktheirlivesheldnothingsignificant。
Buttheylove，theyhope，theydream，theysacrifice，theystruggleonwiththatdreamintheirheartsjustthesameasothers。Weallaredreamers，ifnotintheheavy—liddedwastingoftime，theninthemeaningoflifethatmakesusworkon。
ItwasWordsworthwhowrote，"Theworldistoomuchwithus";andifIcouldgivethesecretofmyambitionasanovelistinafewwordsitwouldbecontainedinthatquotation。Myinspirationtowritehasalwayscomefromnature。Characterandactionaresubordinatedtosetting。InallthatIhavedoneIhavetriedtomakepeopleseehowtheworldistoomuchwiththem。Gettingandspendingtheylaywastetheirpowers，withneverabreathofthefreeandwonderfullifeoftheopen！
SoIcomebacktothemainpointofthisforeword，inwhichIamtryingtotellwhyandhowIcametowritethestoryofafeudnotoriousinArizonaasthePleasantValleyWar。
SomeyearsagoMr。HarryAdams，acattlemanofVermajoPark，NewMexico，toldmehehadbeenintheTontoBasinofArizonaandthoughtImightfindinterestingmaterialthereconcerningthisPleasantValleyWar。
Hisversionofthewarbetweencattlemenandsheepmencertainlydeterminedmetolookovertheground。Myoldguide，AlDoyleofFlagstaff，hadledmeoverhalfofArizona，butneverdownintothatwonderfulwildandruggedbasinbetweentheMogollonMesaandtheMazatzalMountains。DoylehadlonglivedonthefrontierandhisversionofthePleasantValleyWardifferedmarkedlyfromthatofMr。Adams。Iaskedotheroldtimersaboutit，andtheirremarksfurtherexcitedmycuriosity。
Oncedownthere，DoyleandIfoundthewildest，mostrugged，roughest，andmostremarkablecountryeitherofushadvisited;andthefewinhabitantswerelikethecountry。Iwentinostensiblytohuntbearandlionandturkey，butwhatIreallywashuntingforwasthestoryofthatPleasantValleyWar。Iengagedtheservicesofabearhunterwhohadthreestrappingsonsasreservedandstrangeandaloofashewas。
Nowheeltracksofanykindhadevercomewithinmilesoftheircabin。
IspenttwowonderfulmonthshuntinggameandrevelinginthebeautyandgrandeurofthatRimRockcountry，butIcameoutknowingnomoreaboutthePleasantValleyWar。TheseTexansandtheirfewneighbors，likewisefromTexas，didnottalk。ButallIsawandfeltonlyinspiredmethemore。Thistripwasinthefallof1918。
ThenextyearIwentagainwiththebesthorses，outfit，andmentheDoylescouldprovide。AndthistimeIdidnotaskanyquestions。
ButIrodehorses——someofthemtoowildforme——andpackedariflemanyahundredmiles，ridingsometimesthirtyandfortymilesaday，andIclimbedinandoutofthedeepcanyons，desperatelystayingattheheelsofoneofthoselong—leggedTexans。Ilearnedthelifeofthosebackwoodsmen，butIdidnotgetthestoryofthePleasantValleyWar。Ihad，however，wonthefriendshipofthathardypeople。
In1920Iwentbackwithastilllargeroutfit，equippedtostayaslongasIliked。Andthistime，withoutmyaskingit，differentnativesoftheTontocametotellmeaboutthePleasantValleyWar。
Notwoofthemagreedonanythingconcerningit，exceptthatonlyoneoftheactiveparticipantssurvivedthefighting。Whencecomesmytitle，TOTHELASTMAN。ThusIwasswampedinamassofmaterialoutofwhichIcouldonlyfloundertomyownconclusion。Someofthestoriestoldmearesingularlytemptingtoanovelist。But，thoughIbelievethemmyself，Icannotrisktheirimprobabilitytothosewhohavenoideaofthewildnessofwildmenatawildtime。Therereallywasaterribleandbloodyfeud，perhapsthemostdeadlyandleastknowninalltheannalsoftheWest。Isawtheground，thecabins，thegraves，allsodarklysuggestiveofwhatmusthavehappened。
IneverlearnedthetruthofthecauseofthePleasantValleyWar，orifIdidhearitIhadnomeansofrecognizingit。Allthegivencauseswereplausibleandconvincing。Strangetostate，thereisstillsecrecyandreticenceallovertheTontoBasinastothefactsofthisfeud。Manydescendentsofthosekilledarelivingtherenow。
Butnoonelikestotalkaboutit。Assuredlymanyoftheincidentstoldmereallyoccurred，as，forexample，theterribleoneofthetwowomen，inthefaceofrelentlessenemies，savingthebodiesoftheirdeadhusbandsfrombeingdevouredbywildhogs。Sufficeittosaythatthisromanceistruetomyconceptionofthewar，andIbaseituponthesettingIlearnedtoknowandlovesowell，uponthestrangepassionsofprimitivepeople，anduponmyinstinctivereactiontothefactsandrumorsthatIgathered。
ZANEGREY。
AVALON，CALIFORNIA，April，1921
CHAPTERI
Attheendofadry，uphillrideoverbarrencountryJeanIsbelunpackedtocampattheedgeofthecedarswherealittlerockycanyongreenwithwillowandcottonwood，promisedwaterandgrass。
Hisanimalsweretired，especiallythepackmulethathadcarriedaheavyload;andwithslowheaveofrelieftheykneltandrolledinthedust。Jeanexperiencedsomethingofreliefhimselfashethrewoffhischaps。Hehadnotbeenusedtohot，dusty，glaringdaysonthebarrenlands。Stretchinghislonglengthbesideatinyrillofclearwaterthattinkledovertheredstones，hedrankthirstily。
Thewaterwascool，butithadanacridtaste——analkalibitethathedidnotlike。NotsincehehadleftOregonhadhetastedclear，sweet，coldwater;andhemisseditjustashelongedforthestatelyshadyforestshehadloved。Thiswild，endlessArizonalandbadefairtoearnhishatred。
Bythetimehehadleisurelycompletedhistaskstwilighthadfallenandcoyoteshadbeguntheirbarking。Jeanlistenedtotheyelpsandtothemoanofthecoolwindinthecedarswithasenseofsatisfactionthattheselonelysoundswerefamiliar。Thiscedarwoodburnedintoaprettyfireandthesmellofitssmokewasnewlypleasant。
"ReckonmaybeI’lllearntolikeArizona，"hemused，halfaloud。
"ButI’veahankerin’forwaterfallsan’dark—greenforests。
MustbetheIndianinme……Anyway，dadneedsmebad，an’
IreckonI’mhereforkeeps。"
Jeanthrewsomecedarbranchesonthefire，inthelightofwhichheopenedhisfather’sletter，hopingbyrepeatedreadingtograspmoreofitsstrangeportent。Ithadbeentwomonthsinreachinghim，comingbytraveler，bystageandtrain，andthenbyboat，andfinallybystageagain。Writteninleadpencilonaleaftornfromanoldledger，itwouldhavebeenhardtoreadevenifthewritinghadbeenmorelegible。
"Dad’swritin’wasalwaysbad，butIneversawitsoshaky，"saidJean，thinkingaloud。
GRASSVALLY，ARIZONA。
SonJean，——Comehome。Hereisyourhomeandhereyourneeded。
WhenweleftOregonweallreckonedyouwouldnotbelongbehind。
Butitsyearsnow。Iamgrowingold，son，andyouwasalwaysmysteadiestboy。Notthatyoueverwassodamsteady。Onlyyourwildnessseemedmoreforthewoods。Youtakeaftermother，andyourbrothersBillandGuytakeafterme。Thatistheredandwhiteofit。YourpartIndian，Jean，andthatIndianIreckonIamgoingtoneedbad。Iamrichincattleandhorses。AndmyrangehereisthebestIeverseen。Latelywehavebeenlosingstock。Butthatisnotallnorsobad。SheepmenhavemovedintotheTontoandaregrazingdownonGrassVally。Cattlemenandsheepmencanneverbideinthiscountry。Wehavebadtimesahead。
ReckonIhavemorereasonstoworryandneedyou，butyoumustwaittohearthatbywordofmouth。Whateveryourdoing，chuckitandrustleforGrassVallysotomakeherebyspring。Iamaskingyoutotakepainstopackinsomegunsandalotofshells。Andhidetheminyouroutfit。IfyoumeetanyonewhenyourcomingdownintotheTonto，listenmorethanyoutalk。Andlast，son，dontletanythingkeepyouinOregon。Reckonyouhaveasweetheart，andifsofetchheralong。Withlovefromyourdad，GASTONISBEL。
Jeanponderedoverthisletter。judgedbymemoryofhisfather，whohadalwaysbeenself—sufficient，ithadbeenasurpriseandsomewhatofashock。Weeksoftravelandreflectionhadnothelpedhimtograspthemeaningbetweenthelines。
"Yes，dad’sgrowin’old，"musedJean，feelingawarmthandasadnessstirinhim。"Hemustbe’wayoversixty。Butheneverlookedold……Sohe’srichnowan’losin’stock，an’goin’tobesheepedoffhisrange。Dadcouldstandalotofrustlin’，butnotmuchfromsheepmen。"
ThesoftnessthatstirredinJeanmergedintoacold，thoughtfulearnestnesswhichhadfollowedeveryperusalofhisfather’sletter。
Adark，fullcurrentseemedflowinginhisveins，andattimeshefeltitswellandheat。Ittroubledhim，makinghimconsciousofadeeper，strongerself，opposedtohiscareless，free，anddreamynature。NotieshadboundhiminOregon，exceptloveforthegreat，stillforestsandthethunderingrivers;andthislovecamefromhissofterside。Ithadcosthimawrenchtoleave。AndallthewaybyshipdownthecoasttoSanDiegoandacrosstheSierraMadresbystage，andsoontothislastoverlandtravelbyhorseback，hehadfeltaretreatingoftheselfthatwastranquilandhappyandadominatingofthisunknownsomberself，withitsmenacingpossibilities。YetdespiteanamelessregretandaloyaltytoOregon，whenhelayinhisblanketshehadtoconfessakeeninterestinhisadventurousfuture，akeenenjoymentofthisstark，wildArizona。Itappearedtobeadifferentskystretchingindark，star—spangleddomeoverhim——closer，vaster，bluer。Thestrongfragranceofsageandcedarfloatedoverhimwiththecamp—firesmoke，andallseemeddrowsilytosubduehisthoughts。
Atdawnherolledoutofhisblanketsand，pullingonhisboots，beganthedaywithazestfortheworkthatmustbringcloserhiscallingfuture。White，cracklingfrostandcold，nippingairwerethesamekeenspurstoactionthathehadknownintheuplandsofOregon，yettheywerenotwhollythesame。Hesensedanexhilarationsimilartotheeffectofastrong，sweetwine。Hishorseandmulehadfaredwellduringthenight，havingbeenmuchrefreshedbythegrassandwaterofthelittlecanyon。Jeanmountedandrodeintothecedarswithgladnessthatatlasthehadputtheendlessleaguesofbarrenlandbehindhim。
Thetrailhefollowedappearedtobeseldomtraveled。Itled，accordingtothemeagerinformationobtainableatthelastsettlement，directlytowhatwascalledtheRim，andfromthereGrassValleycouldbeseendownintheBasin。Theascentofthegroundwassogradualthatonlyinlong，openstretchescoulditbeseen。ButthenatureofthevegetationshowedJeanhowhewasclimbing。Scant，low，scraggycedarsgaveplacetomorenumerous，darker，greener，bushierones，andthesetohigh，full—foliaged，green—berriedtrees。Sageandgrassintheopenflatsgrewmoreluxuriously。Thencamethepinyons，andpresentlyamongthemthechecker—barkedjunipers。Jeanhailedthefirstpinetreewithaheartyslaponthebrown，ruggedbark。Itwasasmalldwarfpinestrugglingtolive。Thenextonewaslarger，andafterthatcameseveral，andbeyondthempinesstoodupeverywhereabovethelowertrees。OdorofpineneedlesmingledwiththeotherdrysmellsthatmadethewindpleasanttoJean。Inanhourfromthefirstlineofpineshehadriddenbeyondthecedarsandpinyonsintoaslowlythickeninganddeepeningforest。Underbrushappearedscarceexceptinravines，andthegroundinopenpatchesheldableachedgrass。
Jean’seyerovedforsightofsquirrels，birds，deer，oranymovingcreature。Itappearedtobeadry，uninhabitedforest。AboutmiddayJeanhaltedatapondofsurfacewater，evidentlymeltedsnow，andgavehisanimalsadrink。Hesawafewolddeertracksinthemudandseveralhugebirdtracksnewtohimwhichheconcludedmusthavebeenmadebywildturkeys。
Thetraildividedatthispond。Jeanhadnoideawhichbranchheoughttotake。"Reckonitdoesn’tmatter，"hemuttered，ashewasabouttoremount。Hishorsewasstandingwithearsup，lookingbackalongthetrail。ThenJeanheardaclip—clopoftrottinghoofs，andpresentlyespiedahorseman。
Jeanmadeapretenseoftighteninghissaddlegirthswhilehepeeredoverhishorseattheapproachingrider。AllmeninthiscountryweregoingtobeofexceedinginteresttoJeanIsbel。ThismanatadistancerodeandlookedlikealltheArizoniansJeanhadseen，hehadasuperbseatinthesaddle，andhewaslongandlean。Heworeahugeblacksombreroandasoiledredscarf。Hisvestwasopenandhewaswithoutacoat。
TheridercametrottingupandhaltedseveralpacesfromJean"Hullo，stranger！"hesaid，gruffly。
"Howdyyourself！"repliedJean。Hefeltaninstinctiveimportanceinthemeetingwiththeman。NeverhadsharpereyesflashedoverJeanandhisoutfit。Hehadadust—colored，sun—burnedface，long，lean，andhard，ahugesandymustachethathidhismouth，andeyesofpiercinglightintensity。NotverymuchhardWesternexperiencehadpassedbythisman，yethewasnotold，measuredbyyears。
WhenhedismountedJeansawhewastall，evenforanArizonian。
"Seenyourtracksbackaways，"hesaid，asheslippedthebittolethishorsedrink。"Wherebound？"
"ReckonI’mlost，allright，"repliedJean。"Newcountryforme。"
"Shore。Iseenthetfromyourtracksan’yourlastcamp。Wal，wherewasyouheadin’forbeforeyougotlost？"
Thequerywasdeliberatelycool，withadry，crispring。Jeanfeltthelackoffriendlinessorkindlinessinit。
"GrassValley。Myname’sIsbel，"hereplied，shortly。
Theriderattendedtohisdrinkinghorseandpresentlyrebridledhim;
thenwithlongswingoflegheappearedtostepintothesaddle。
"ShoreIknowedyouwasJeanIsbel，"hesaid。"EverybodyintheTontohasheerdoldGassIsbelsentferhisboy。"
"Wellthen，whydidyouask？"inquiredJean，bluntly。
"ReckonIwantedtoseewhatyou’dsay。"
"So？Allright。ButI’mnotcarin’verymuchforwhatYOUsay。"
Theirglanceslockedsteadilythenandeachmeasuredtheotherbytheintangibleconflictofspirit。
"Shorethet’snatural，"repliedtherider。Hisspeechwasslow，andthemotionsofhislong，brownhands，ashetookacigarettefromhisvest，kepttimewithhiswords。"Butseein’you’reoneoftheIsbels，I’llhevmysaywhetheryouwantitornot。Myname’sColteran’I’moneofthesheepmenGassIsbel’sriledwith。"
"Colter。Gladtomeetyou，"repliedJean。"An’Ireckonwhoriledmyfatherisgoin’torileme。"
"Shore。Ifthetwasn’tsoyou’dnotbeanIsbel，"returnedColter，withagrimlittlelaugh。"It’seasytoseeyouain’trunintoanyTontoBasinfellersyet。Wal，I’mgoin’totellyouthetyouroldmangabbedlikeawomandownatGreaves’sstore。Braggedabootyouan’howyoucouldfightan’howyoucouldshootan’howyoucouldtrackahossoraman！Braggedhowyou’dchaseeverysheepherderbackupontheRim……I’mtellin’youbecausewewantyoutogitourstandright。We’regoin’torunsheepdowninGrassValley。"
"Ahuh！Well，who’swe？"queriedJean，curtly。
"What—at？……We——Imeanthesheepmenrangin’thisRimfromBlackButtetotheApachecountry。"
"Colter，I’mastrangerinArizona，"saidJean，slowly。Iknowlittleaboutranchersorsheepmen。It’struemyfathersentforme。It’strue，Idaresay，thathebragged，forhewasgiventoblusteran’blow。
An’he’soldnow。Ican’thelpitifhebraggedaboutme。Butifhehas，an’ifhe’sjustifiedinhisstandagainstyousheepmen，Imgoin’
todomybesttoliveuptohisbrag。"
"Igetyourhunch。Shoreweunderstandeachother，an’thet’sapowerfulhelp。Youtakemyhunchtoyouroldman，"repliedColter，asheturnedhishorseawaytowardtheleft。"Thettrailleadin’
southisyours。WhenyoucometotheRimyou’llseeabarespotdownintheBasin。Thet’llbeGrassValley。"
Herodeawayoutofsightintothewoods。Jeanleanedagainsthishorseandpondered。ItseemeddifficulttobejusttothisColter，notbecauseofhisclaims，butbecauseofasubtlehostilitythatemanatedfromhim。Colterhadthehardface，themaskedintent，theturnofspeechthatJeanhadcometoassociatewithdishonestmen。
EvenifJeanhadnotbeenprejudiced，ifhehadknownnothingofhisfather’stroublewiththesesheepmen，andifColterhadmethimonlytoexchangeglancesandgreetings，stillJeanwouldneverhavehadafavorableimpression。Coltergrateduponhim，rousedanantagonismseldomfelt。
"Heigho！"sighedtheyoungman，"Good—bytohuntin’an’fishing’！
Dad’sgivenmeaman’sjob。"
Withthathemountedhishorseandstartedthepackmuleintotheright—handtrail。Walkingandtrotting，hetraveledallafternoon，towardsunsetgettingintoheavyforestofpine。Morethanonesnowbankshowedwhitethroughthegreen，shelteredonthenorthslopesofshadyravines。Anditwasuponenteringthiszoneofricher，deeperforestlandthatJeansloughedoffhisgloomyforebodings。ThesestatelypineswerenotthegiantfirsofOregon，butanyloverofthewoodscouldbehappyunderthem。Higherstillheclimbeduntiltheforestspreadbeforeandaroundhimlikealevelpark，withthicketedravineshereandthereoneachside。Andpresentlythatdeceitfullevelledtoahigherbenchuponwhichthepinestowered，andwerematchedbybeautifultreeshetookforspruce。Heavilybarked，withregularspreadingbranches，theseconifersroseinsymmetricalshapetospeartheskywithsilverplumes。Agracefulgray—greenmoss，wavedlikeveilsfromthebranches。Theairwasnotsodryanditwascolder，withascentandtouchofsnow。Jeanmadecampatthefirstlikelysite，takingtheprecautiontounrollhisbedsomelittledistancefromhisfire。Underthesoftlymoaningpineshefeltcomfortable，havinglostthesenseofanimmeasurableopenspacefallingawayfromallaroundhim。
ThegobblingofwildturkeysawakenedJean，"Chuga—lug，chug—a—lug，chug—a—lug—chug。"Therewasnotagreatdifferencebetweenthegobbleofawildturkeyandthatofatameone。Jeangotup，andtakinghisriflewentoutintothegrayobscurityofdawntotrytolocatetheturkeys。Butitwastoodark，andfinallywhendaylightcametheyappearedtobegone。Themulehadstrayed，and，whatwithfindingitandcookingbreakfastandpacking，Jeandidnotmakeaveryearlystart。Onthislastlapofhislongjourneyhehadsloweddown。
Hewaswearyofhurrying;thechangefromweeksintheglaringsunanddust—ladenwindtothissweetcootdarklygreenandbrownforestwasverywelcome;hewantedtolingeralongtheshadedtrail。ThisdayhemadesurewouldseehimreachtheRim。Byandbyhelostthetrail。Ithadjustwornoutfromlackofuse。EverynowandthenJeanwouldcrossanoldtrail，andashepenetrateddeeperintotheforesteverydampordustyspotshowedtracksofturkey，deer，andbear。Theamountofbearsignsurprisedhim。Presentlyhiskeennostrilswereassailedbyasmellofsheep，andsoonherodeintoabroadsheep，trail。FromthetracksJeancalculatedthatthesheephadpassedtherethedaybefore。
Anunreasonableantipathyseemedborninhim。Tobesurehehadbeenpreparedtodislikesheep，andthatwaswhyhewasunreasonable。Butontheotherhandthisbandofsheephadleftabroadbareswath，weedless，grassless，flowerless，intheirwake。Wheresheepgrazedtheydestroyed。ThatwaswhatJeanhadagainstthem。
Anhourlaterherodetothecrestofalongparklikeslope，wherenewgreengrasswassproutingandflowerspeepedeverywhere。Thepinesappearedfarapart;gnarledoaktreesshowedruggedandgrayagainstthegreenwallofwoods。Awhitestripofsnowgleamedlikeamovingstreamawaydowninthewoods。
Jeanheardthemusicaltinkleofbellsandthebaa—baaofsheepandthefaint，sweetbleatingoflambs。Asheroadtowardthesesoundsadogranoutfromanoakthicketandbarkedathim。NextJeansmelledacampfireandsoonhecaughtsightofacurlingbluecolumnofsmoke，andthenasmallpeakedtent。BeyondtheclumpofoaksJeanencounteredaMexicanladcarryingacarbine。Theboyhadaswarthy，pleasantface，andtoJean’sgreetinghereplied，"BUENASDIAS。"JeanunderstoodlittleSpanish，andaboutallhegatheredbyhissimplequerieswasthattheladwasnotalone——andthatitwas"lambingtime。"
Thislattercircumstancegrewnoisilymanifest。Theforestseemedshrillyfullofincessantbaasandplaintivebleats。Allaboutthecamp，ontheslope，intheglades，andeverywhere，weresheep。Afewweregrazing;manywerelyingdown;mostofthemwereewessucklingwhitefleecylittlelambsthatstaggeredontheirfeet。EverywhereJeansawtinylambsjustborn。Theirpin—pointedbleatspiercedtheheavierbaa—baaoftheirmothers。
Jeandismountedandledhishorsedowntowardthecamp，whereheratherexpectedtoseeanotherandolderMexican，fromwhomhemightgetinformation。Theladwalkedwithhim。Downthiswaytheplaintiveuproarmadebythesheepwasnotsoloud。
"Hellothere！"calledJean，cheerfully，asheapproachedthetent。
Noanswerwasforthcoming。Droppinghisbridle，hewenton，ratherslowly，lookingforsomeonetoappear。Thenavoicefromonesidestartledhim。
"Mawnin’，stranger。"
Agirlsteppedoutfrombesideapine。Shecarriedarifle。Herfaceflashedrichlybrown，butshewasnotMexican。Thisfact，andthesuddenconvictionthatshehadbeenwatchinghim，somewhatdisconcertedJean。
"Begpardon——miss，"hefloundered。"Didn’texpect，toseea——girl……I’msortoflost——lookin’fortheRim——an’thoughtI’dfindasheepherderwho’dshowme。Ican’tsavvythisboy’slingo。"
Whilehespokeitseemedtohimanintentnessofexpression，astrainrelaxedfromherface。Afaintsuggestionofhostilitylikewisedisappeared。Jeanwasnotevensurethathehadcaughtit，buttherehadbeensomethingthatnowwasgone。
"ShoreI’llbegladtoshowy’u，"shesaid。
"Thanks，miss。ReckonIcanbreatheeasynow，"hereplied，"It’salongridefromSanDiego。Hotan’dusty！I’mprettytired。
An’maybethiswoodsisn’tgoodmedicinetoachin’eyes！"
"SanDiego！Y’u’refromthecoast？"
"Yes。"
Jeanhaddoffedhissombreroatsightofherandhestillheldit，ratherdeferentially，perhaps。Itseemedtoattractherattention。
"Putony’urhat，stranger……ShoreIcan’trecollectwhenanymanbaredhishaidtome。"Sheutteredalittlelaughinwhichsurpriseandfranknessmingledwithatintofbitterness。
Jeansatdownwithhisbacktoapine，and，layingthesombrerobyhisside，helookedfullather，consciousofasingulareagerness，asifhewantedtoverifybyclosescrutinyafirsthastyimpression。
IftherehadbeenaninstinctinhismeetingwithColter，therewasmoreinthis。Thegirlhalfsat，halfleanedagainstalog，withtheshinylittlecarbineacrossherknees。Shehadalevel，curiousgazeuponhim，andJeanhadnevermetonejustlikeit。Hereyeswereratherawideovalinshape，clearandsteady，withshadowsofthoughtintheiramber—browndepths。TheyseemedtolookthroughJean，andhisgazedroppedfirst。Thenitwashesawherraggedhomespunskirtandafewinchesofbrown，bareankles，strongandround，andcrudeworn—outmoccasinsthatfailedtohidetheshapeliness，ofherfeet。
Suddenlyshedrewbackherstockinglessanklesandill—shodlittlefeet。
WhenJeanliftedhisgazeagainhefoundherfacehalfavertedandastainofredinthegoldtanofhercheek。Thattouchofembarrassmentsomehowremovedherfromthisstrong，raw，wildwoodlandsetting。Itchangedherpoise。Itdetractedfromthecurious，unabashed，almostbold，lookthathehadencounteredinhereyes。
"Reckonyou’refromTexas，"saidJean，presently。
"Shoream，"shedrawled。ShehadalazySouthernvoice，pleasanttohear。"How’dy’u—allguessthat？"
"AnybodycantellaTexan。WhereIcamefromtherewereagoodmanypioneersan’ranchersfromtheoldLoneStarstate。I’veworkedforseveral。An’，cometothinkofit，I’dratherhearaTexasgirltalkthananybody。"
"Didy’uknowmanyTexasgirls？"sheinquired，turningagaintofacehim。
"ReckonIdid——quiteagoodmany。"
"Didy’ugowiththem？"
"Gowiththem？Reckonyoumeankeepcompany。Why，yes，IguessI
did——alittle，"laughedJean。"SometimesonaSundayoradanceonceinabluemoon，an’occasionallyaride。"
"Shorethataccounts，"saidthegirl，wistfully。
"Forwhat？"askedJean。
"Y’urbein’agentleman，"shereplied，withforce。Oh，I’venotforgotten。IhadfriendswhenwelivedinTexas……Threeyearsago。Shoreitseemslonger。Threemiserableyearsinthisdamnedcountry！"
Thenshebitherlip，evidentlytokeepbackfurtherunwittingutterancetoatotalstranger。AnditwasthatbitingofherlipthatdrewJean’sattentiontohermouth。Itheldbeautyofcurveandfullnessandcolorthatcouldnothideacertainsadnessandbitterness。ThenthewholeflashingbrownfacechangedforJean。
Hesawthatitwasyoung，fullofpassionandrestraint，possessingapowerwhichgrewonhim。This，withhershameandpathosandthefactthatshecravedrespect，gavealeaptoJean’sinterest。
"Well，Ireckonyouflatterme，"hesaid，hopingtoputherathereaseagain。"I’monlyaroughhunteran’fisherman—woodchopperan’
horsetracker。NeverhadalltheschoolIneeded——nornearenoughcompanyofnicegirlslikeyou。"
"AmInice？"sheasked，quickly。
"Yousureare，"hereplied，smiling。
"Intheserags，"shedemanded，withasuddenflashofpassionthatthrilledhim。"Lookattheholes。"Sheshowedripsandworn—outplacesinthesleevesofherbuckskinblouse，throughwhichgleamedaround，brownarm。"IsewwhenIhaveanythin’tosewwith……
Lookatmyskirt——adirtyrag。An’Ihaveonlyoneothertomyname……Look！"Againacolortingedhercheeks，mostbecoming，andgivingthelietoheraction。Butshamecouldnotcheckherviolencenow。Adammed—upresentmentseemedtohavebrokenoutinflood。Sheliftedtheraggedskirtalmosttoherknees。"Nostockings！NoShoes！……Howcanagirlbenicewhenshehasnoclean，decentwoman’sclothestowear？"
"How——howcanagirl……"beganJean。"Seehere，miss，I’mbeggin’
yourpardonfor——sortofstirrin’youtoforgetyourselfalittle。