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They buried him in a clump of cottonwoods and left a little pile

of rocks to mark the spot.

CHAPTER IV -- LOST!

After her precipitate leave-taking of the man whose team she had

bought or borrowed, Margaret Kinney nursed the fires of her

indignation in silence, banking them for future use against the

time when she should meet him again in the event that should ever

happen. She brought her whip-lash snapping above the backs of the

horses, and there was that in the supple motion of the small

strong wrist which suggested that nothing would have pleased her

more than having this audacious Texan there in place of the

innocent animals. For whatever of inherited savagery lay latent

in her blood had been flogged to the surface by the circumstances

into which she had been thrust. Never in all her placid life had

she known the tug of passion any closer than from across the

footlights of a theatre.