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。