A little ripple of laughter went through the crowd. Then they
swung up on their horses and galloped away in the moonlight.



CHAPTER VIII

A QUESTION OF NERVE

"That was your victory, Miss Stevens. Allow me to congratulate
you." If Thurston showed any ill grace in his tone it was
without intent. But it did seem unfortunate that just as he was
waxing eloquent and felt sure of himself and something of a
hero, Mona should push him aside as though he were of no account
and disperse a bunch of angry cowboys with half a dozen words.

She looked at him with her direct, blue-gray eyes, and smiled.
And her smile had no unpleasant uplift at the corners; it was
the dimply, roguish smile of the pastel portrait only several
times nicer. Re could hardly believe it; he just opened his
eyes wide and stared. When he came to a sense of his rudeness,
Mona was back in the kitchen helping with the supper dishes,
just as though nothing had happened--unless one observed the
deep, apple-red of her cheeks--while her mother, who showed not
the faintest symptoms of collapse, flourished a dish towel made
of a bleached flour sack with the stamp showing a faint pink
and blue XXXX across the center.

"I knew all. the time they wouldn't do anything when it came