Rosebud looked serious, and thought of the scolding that might be forthcoming. Then she laughed and urged her horse quickly forward.

"Why, Seth----" she cried. But she broke off abruptly. The rest of what she was about to say died out of her mind. Seth was not even looking at her. His eyes were on Nevil Steyne in a hard, cold stare. Physically weak as he was there could be no mistaking the utter hatred conveyed in that look.

Rosebud had drawn up beside him. For once she was at a loss, helpless.

Nevil was some ten yards in rear of her. There was a moment's silence after the girl's greeting, then Seth said quite sharply--

"You stay right here."

He urged his horse forward and went to meet Nevil. The girl was very anxious, hardly knowing why. She heard Seth's voice low but commanding.

His words were lost upon her, but their effect was plain enough. Nevil first smiled contemptuously, then he paled and finally turned his horse about, and slowly returned the way he had come.

Then, and not until then, Rosebud observed that Seth was grasping the b.u.t.t of his revolver.

CHAPTER XXIV

ROSEBUD'S FORTUNE

Something of the old spirit seemed to have gone out of Rosebud when Seth rode back to her. A strange fascination held her; and now, as he came up, she had no thought of questioning him, no desire. She was ready to obey.

She watched the emaciated figure as it drew near with eyes that told a story which only he could have misinterpreted. She was ready for a scolding, a scolding which she felt she merited. But Seth made no attempt to blame her. And this very fact made her wish that he would.

"Say, Rosie, gal, I guess we'll be gettin' back," he said, in a manner which suggested that they had been out together merely, and that it was time for returning.

"Yes, Seth."

There was unusual humility in the reply. It may have been that the girl remembered that scene in the woods so many months ago. Perhaps the scene she had just witnessed had told her something that no explanations could have made so clear. Seth was always the dominating factor in their intercourse, but this outward submission was quite foreign to the girl.

They rode off together, the man's horse leading slightly. Neither spoke for a while, but Rosebud noticed that almost imperceptibly they had branched off and were heading for the bridge by unfrequented by-paths which frequently demanded their riding in Indian-file.

Seth displayed no haste and no inclination to talk, and the silence soon began to jar on the girl. It was one thing for her to give ready obedience, but to be led like some culprit marching to execution was something which roused her out of her docility. At the first opportunity she ranged her horse alongside her companion's and a.s.serted her presence.

"I want you to answer me a question, Seth," she said quietly. "How did you get wounded?"

The man's face never relaxed a muscle, but there was a dryness in the tone of his reply.

"Guess some bussock of a feller got monkeyin' with a gun an' didn't know a heap."

Rosebud favored him with a little knowing smile. They were still amidst the broken woodlands, and she was quick to observe her companion's swift-moving eyes as they flashed this way and that in their ceaseless watchfulness.

"I'm not to be cheated. Some one shot at you who meant--business."

"Guess I ain't aware jest how he figgered, Rosie." A smile accompanied Seth's words this time.

"Well, who did it?"

"I never seen him; so I can't rightly say."

"But you guess?"

"I ain't good at guessin'."

The girl laughed.

"Very well, I won't bother you."

Then after a little silence the man spoke again.

"Those letters of yours was mortal fine," he said. "Seems to me I could most find my way around London, with its stores an' nigglin' trails. It's a tol'ble city. A mighty good eddication, travelin'."

"I suppose it is." Rosebud seemed to have lost her desire for conversation.

"Makes you think some," Seth went on, heedless of the girl's abstraction.

"Makes you feel as the sun don't jest rise and set on your own p'tickler patch o' ploughin'. Makes you feel you're kind o' like a grain o' wheat at seedin' time. I allow a man don't amount to a heap noways."

Rosebud turned on him with a bright smile in her wonderful eyes.

"That depends, Seth. I should say a man is as he chooses to make himself.

I met a lot of men in England; some of them were much better than others.

Some were extremely nice."

"Ah." Seth turned his earnest eyes on the girl's face. He lost the significance of the mischievous down-turning of the corners of her mouth.

"I guess them gilt-edge folk are a dandy lot. Y' see them 'lords' an'

such, they've got to be pretty nigh the mark."

"Why, yes, I suppose they have."

There was another brief pause while the man's eyes glanced keenly about.

"Maybe you mixed a deal with them sort o' folk," he went on presently.

"Oh, yes." The violet eyes were again alight.

"Pretty tidy sort o' fellers, eh?"

"Rather. I liked one or two very much--very much indeed. There was Bob--Bob Vinceps, you know--he was a splendid fellow. He was awfully nice to me. Took auntie and me everywhere. I wonder how he's getting on. I must see if there's a letter from him at Beacon. He asked me if he might write.

And wasn't it nice of him, Seth? He came all the way from London to Liverpool to see me, I mean us, off. It's a long way--a dreadful long way."

"Ah, mebbe when I go into Beacon Crossing I'll fetch that letter out for you, Rosie."

But Seth's simple-heartedness--Rosebud called it "stupidity,"--was too much. The girl's smile vanished in a second and she answered sharply.

"Thanks, I'll get my own letters." Then she went on demurely. "You see if there happened to be a letter from Bob I shouldn't like auntie to see it.

She is very--very--well, she mightn't like it."

"How?"