look just then was full of characteristic Western spirit. Then he got
up.

"Lenore, I reckon your talk 'll be more interesting than mine," he said,
dryly. "I'll go see Dorn an' get this business over."

"I'd rather go with you," hurriedly replied Kurt; and then, as though
realizing a seeming discourtesy in his words, his face flamed, and he
stammered: "I--I don't mean that. But father is in bad mood. We just
quarreled.--I told you--about the war. And--Mr. Anderson,--I'm--I'm a
little afraid he'll--"

"Well, son, I'm not afraid," interrupted the rancher. "I'll beard the
old lion in his den. You talk to Lenore."

"Please don't speak of the war," said Kurt, appealingly.

"Not a word unless he starts roarin' at Uncle Sam," declared Anderson,
with a twinkle in his eyes, and turned toward the house.

"He'll roar, all right," said Kurt, almost with a groan. He knew what an
ordeal awaited the rancher, and he hated the fact that it could not be
avoided. Then Kurt was confused, astounded, infuriated with himself over
a situation he had not brought about and could scarcely realize. He
became conscious of pride and shame, and something as black and hopeless
as despair.

"Haven't I seen you--before?" asked the girl.

The query surprised and thrilled Kurt out of his self-centered thought.