He spurred Buster onto the main trail which lifted gradually toward Dead
Line Peak. Judith, after a pouting moment, followed him.

Except for this steady lift from seven thousand feet at Black Gorge to
eight thousand feet at the base of Dead Line and Falkner's Peaks, the
valley was as level as a floor. The sun was setting as the two left the
post-office. Lost Chief Range, on their right, was black against fire.
The snow of the valley was as blue as indigo. A gentle but bitterly
cold wind rose from the east. Prince, yelping, set off after a skulking
coyote. When he had disappeared beyond a distant herd grazing through the
snow, Judith pushed her horse up beside Buster.

"Doug, am I any scrappier than the rest of them?"

Douglas, his cigarette hanging negligently from a corner of his mouth,
nodded.

"Well, I have to be, Doug," insisted Judith.

"No, you don't. You just look for trouble, all the time. Why do you have
to be?"

"Who is there to look out for me?" demanded the girl, chin in the air.

"Pshaw! You don't need a guard, do you? Besides, what's the matter with
me?"

"Huh! You don't really care what happens to me. I'm not your real sister
and you never forget it. I'm lonely."