That his fears were well enough founded was pretty obvious. David Slosson, as he hurried away from Mallinsbee's office, knew that he had played the game of his own advantage and--lost. This sort of thing had not often happened, and on those rare occasions on which it had happened he had so contrived that those who had caused him a reverse paid fairly dearly in the end. He was one of those men who believed that if a man only squeezed hard enough blood could be contrived from a stone. Against every successful offensive of the enemy there was nearly always a way of "getting back."

That he could "get back" on the commercial side of the present affair he possessed not the smallest doubt. He would "recommend" to his company that the present depot at Snake's Fall, with certain enlargements, and the private line to be built by the Bude and Sideley Coal people, were all that was sufficient to serve the public, and, through his judicious purchase of sites in the old township, a far more profitable enterprise for them than the new township could offer.

Personally, he would have to sacrifice his own interests. But since Mallinsbee and his cub of an office boy would be badly "stung," the matter would not be without satisfaction to his revengeful nature.

Then there was that other matter--and he moistened his thin lips as he contemplated it.

In spite of all Gordon's lack of faith in Hazel's efforts, they had not been without effect. Slosson had been flattered. His vanity had seen conquest in Hazel's readiness to accept his company. It had been obvious to him from the first that the manner in which he had displayed his "nerve" before her at the ranch pleased her more than a little.

After all, she was a mere country girl--a "rube" girl.

Nor was it likely that she would be difficult now. She was pretty, pretty as a picture. Her figure appealed to his sensual nature. She didn't know a thing--outside her ranch. Well, he could teach her.

Especially now. Oh, yes, it was all very opportune. He would teach her all he knew. He laughed. He would teach her for--her father's sake. And--yes, for the sake of that young cub of a man that had ordered him out of the office.

What was his name--"Van Henslaer"? Yes, that was it. A "square-head,"

he supposed. The country was full of these American-speaking German "square-heads." Then quite suddenly he began to laugh. For the first time since he came to Snake's Fall the thought occurred to him that possibly this fellow was in love with Hazel himself. He had been so busy prosecuting his own attentions to her himself that he had never considered the possibility of another man being in the running. The thought inspired an even more pleasant sensation. It threw a new light upon Van Henslaer's attitude. Well, there was not much doubt as to who was the favored man. The fellow's very attitude suggested his failure.

Slosson felt he was going to reap better than had seemed at first. He would ruin Mallinsbee's schemes and satisfy his company at a slight personal loss to himself. He would complete his triumph over the individual in Mallinsbee's office. First of all, through Mallinsbee's failure in the land scheme, by robbing him of a position, and secondly, through robbing him of all chance of success with the girl. It was not too bad a retort. He would have made it harsher if he could, but, for a start, it would have to do. Later, of course, since he would see a great deal of Snake's Fall and his power in the place would increase, he would extend operations against his enemies.

Hazel must be his--his entirely. To that he had made up his mind. She was much too desirable to be "running loose," he told himself.

Marriage was out of the question, unless he wished to commit bigamy; a pleasantry at which he laughed silently. Anyway, if it were possible, it would not have suited him. Marriage would have robbed him of the right to break up her father's land scheme. No, marriage was---- Well, he was married--to his lasting regret.

Hazel was very attractive; very. He could quite understand a man making a fool of himself over her. He had once made a fool of himself, and in consequence marriage was very cheap from his point of view. He regarded women now as lawful prey. And apart from Hazel's attractiveness, which was very, very seductive, it would be a pretty piece of getting back on her father and that other. He laughed again.

It was quaint. The prettier a woman the greater the fool she was.

So he rode on towards the coalpits.

His narrow eyes were alert, watching the horizon on every side. He was looking for that fawn-colored figure on its brown mare. His thoughts were full of it now. The rest was all thrust into the background, leaving full play to his desires, which were fast overwhelming all caution. It would have been impossible to overwhelm his sense of decency.

Suddenly it occurred to him that it was ridiculous that he should go on to the coalpits. His eagerness was swaying him. His mad longing for the girl swept everything before it. Why should he not cut across to the westward and intercept her on the way from the ranch? She must come that way, and--he could not possibly miss her.

He looked at his watch. It wanted half an hour to their appointment.

Why, he would be at the pits in ten minutes, which would leave him a full twenty minutes of waiting.

In his mood of the moment it was a thought quite impossible. So he swung his horse westwards, with his eyes even more watchful for the approach of the figure he was seeking.

Perhaps Hazel was late. Perhaps Slosson was traveling faster than he knew. Anyway, he was already in the shadow of the bigger hills when he discovered the speeding brown mare with its dainty burden. Hazel discovered him almost at the same instant, and reined in her horse to let him come up. In a moment or two his roughly familiar greeting jarred her ears.

"Hello!" he cried. "There never was a woman who could keep time worth a cent. I guessed you'd strayed some, so I got along quick."

He had reined up facing her on the cattle track, and his sensual eyes covertly surveyed her from head to foot.

"Why, you haven't been near the pits," protested Hazel, avoiding his gaze. "You've come across country. Anyway, it's not time yet." She pulled off a gauntlet and held up her wrist for him to look at the watch upon it.

He reached out, caught her hand, and drew it towards him on the pretense of looking at the watch. His eyes were shining dangerously as he did so. Just for an instant Hazel was taken unawares. Then her pretty eyes suddenly lost their smile, and she drew her hand sharply away.

Slosson looked up.

"Your watch is wrong," he declared, with a grin intended to be facetious, but which scarcely disguised the feelings lying behind it.

Hazel was smiling again. She shook her head.

"It isn't," she denied. "But come on, or we'll miss the fun. I've got a youngster there in the corrals, never been saddled or man-handled.

I'm going to ride him for your edification when the boys are through with the others. It's a mark of my favor which you must duly appreciate."

She led the way back towards the hills at a steady canter.

"Say, you've got nerve," cried Slosson, in genuine admiration. "Never been saddled?"

"Or man-handled," returned Hazel, determined he should lose nothing of her contemplated adventure. "He was rounded up this morning at my orders out of a bunch of three-year-old prairie-bred colts. You'll surely see some real bucking--not cat-jumping," she added mischievously.

"Say, you can't forget that play," cried the man, with some pride.

"I'd have got on that hoss if he'd bucked to kingdom-come. I don't take any bluff from a girl."

"I s'pose girls aren't of much account with you? They're just silly things with no sense or--or anything. Some men are like that."

A warm glow swept through the man's veins.

"I allow it just depends on the girl."

"Maybe you don't reckon I've got sense?"

Slosson gazed at her with a meaning smile.

"I've seen signs," he observed playfully.

"Thanks. You've surely got keen eyes. Black eyes are mostly keen.

Say, I wonder how much sense they reckon they've seen in me?"

"Well, I should say they've seen that you reckon David Slosson makes a tolerable companion to ride around with. Which is some sense."

Hazel turned, and her pretty eyes looked straight into his. A man of less vanity might have questioned the first glance of them. But Slosson only saw the following smile.

"Just tolerable," she cried, in a fashion which could not give offense.

Then she abruptly changed the subject. "Get through your business at--the office?" she inquired casually.

Slosson's eyes hardened. In a moment the memory of Gordon swept through his brain in a tide of swift, hot anger.

"There's nothing doing," he said harshly.

Hazel turned. A quick alarm was shining in her eyes, and the man interpreted it exactly. Caution was abruptly cast to the winds.

"Say, Hazel," he cried hotly, "I'm going to tell you something. Your father's a--a fool. Oh, I don't mean it just that way. I mean he's a fool to set that boy running things for him. He's plumb killed your golden goose. We've broken off negotiations. That's all. The railroad don't need Buffalo Point."

"But what's Gordon done?" the girl cried, for the moment off her guard.

"Father gave him instructions. You had an offer to make, and it was to be considered--duly."

"What's Gordon done?" The man's eyes were hot with fury. "So that's it--'Gordon.' He's 'Gordon,' eh?" All in a moment venom surged to the surface. The man's unwholesome features went ghastly in his rage. "He turned me--me out of the office. He told me to go to hell. Say, that pup has flung your father's whole darned concern right on to the rocks.

So it's 'Gordon,' eh? To everybody else he's 'Van Henslaer,' but to you he's 'Gordon.' That's why he's on to me, I guessed as much. Well, say, you've about mussed up things between you. My back's right up, and I'm cursed if the railroad 'll move for the benefit of those interested in Buffalo Point."

Hazel had heard enough. More than enough. Her temper had risen too.