"Guess you know what I'm here for, Madam," he was to say significantly and harshly.

But like most prearranged things in life it all went differently. When he was close enough to see well his jaw dropped automatically. There was no more resemblance between the girl who straightened up and smiled upon him and the hard-featured woman he had pictured as "Mormon Joe's Kate,"

than there was between himself and the horse he was riding.

Younger by years than he had antic.i.p.ated, she radiated wholesomeness, simple friendliness and candor. A strand of soft hair had slipped from beneath her cap and lay upon a cheek that was a vivid pink in the cold atmosphere; she had the clear skin of perfect health and her lips were red with the blood that was close to the surface, while the gray eyes with which she regarded him were frank and steady as she gazed at him inquiringly.

Lingle tugged at his hat brim instinctively.

"I thought you were a coyote when the sheep began running," she said, good-naturedly. "They've been bothering a lot this cold weather."

Lingle mumbled that he "presumed so."

"I suppose you are the new herder?"

"I came out with him," the deputy replied evasively.

"Didn't Uncle Joe come?" Kate's face fell in disappointment.

Lingle shifted his weight and looked elsewhere.

"He's in town yet," he answered.

Lingle knew instinctively that she thought Mormon Joe was drinking heavily.

Then, fixing her troubled eyes upon him she asked hesitatingly:

"Did he--say when I could expect him?"

The merciless hound of the law, who had dismounted, shuffled his feet uneasily and looked down to see if his badge was showing.

"Er--he didn't mention it." In the panic which seized him he could not frame the words in which to tell her, and he felt an illogical wrath at Bowers--the coward--for not coming with him. For a moment he considered resigning, then walked over to where her horse was feeding to collect himself while her wondering gaze followed him.

Lingle ran his hand along the horse's neck, the hair of which was stiff with dried sweat, lifted the saddle blanket and looked at its legs, where streaks of lather had hardened. He regarded her keenly as he turned to her.

"You been smokin' up your horse, I notice."

"I ran a coyote for two miles this morning--emptied my magazine at him and then didn't get him." The truth shining in her clear eyes was unmistakable.

Lingle broke off a handful of sagebrush and used it as a makeshift currycomb, while Kate, a little surprised at the action, picked up the bridle reins when he had finished the gratuitous grooming and started the sheep moving.

"I'll feed back to camp slowly. Don't wait for me--you and the herder eat supper."

"Anything I can do, ma'am?"

"Oh, no, thank you."

Bowers met the deputy at the door of the cook tent, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Did she beller?"

Lingle sat down morosely and removed his spurs before answering.

"I didn't tell her."

"What!" Bowers fairly jumped at him. "What's the matter?"

"She might as well eat her supper, mightn't she?" defiantly.

"Do you know what I think?" Bowers pointed a spoon at him accusingly. "I think your nerve failed you. All I got to say is--you're a devil of an officer."

"Maybe you'd like to tell her," sneeringly.

"I sh.o.r.e ain't afraid to!" bristling. "I don't like to listen to a female's snifflin', and I say so, but when it comes to bein' _afraid_ of one of 'em--" Bowers banged the pan of biscuits on the table to emphasize the small esteem in which he held women. "What fer a looker is she?" he demanded.

"You'd better eat your supper before she gets here."

"Bad as that?"

"Worse," grimly. "I ain't got educated words enough to describe her."

They had eaten by the light of the lantern, when they heard Kate coming.

She lifted the flap of the tent and smiled her friendly smile upon them.

"Goodness, but I'm glad I don't have to cook supper! I haven't had anything warm since morning."

Bowers stood with the broom in his hand, staring, while Kate removed her cap and jacket. Then he cast an evil look upon the deputy, a look which said, "You liar!"

As she made to get the food from the stove he interposed hastily:

"You set down, Ma'am."

Lingle gave him a look which was equally significant, a jeering look which said ironically, "Woman hater!"

Bowers colored with pleasure when she lauded his "cowpuncher potatoes"

and exclaimed over the biscuits.

When Kate had finished she looked from one to the other and beamed upon them impartially.

"It's nice to see people. I haven't seen any one for six weeks except Uncle Joe," wistfully. "I wish he had come back with you--it's so lonesome."

There was an immediate silence and then Bowers cleared his throat noisily.

"Night 'fore last was tol'able chilly in your wagon, I reckon?"

Her face sobered.

"It was--terrible! I couldn't sleep for the cold, and thinking about and pitying the stock on the range, and anybody that had to be out in it. I was glad Uncle Joe was safe in Prouty--there was no need for us both to be out here suffering."