"Mrs. Herndon, wife of the superintendent of the 'Golden Rule' mine";
and he waved his hand toward the distant houses. "They tell me she's a
mighty fine woman."

"Oh, they do? Then somebody's been stirring you up about me, have
they? I thought that was about the way of it. Somebody wants to
reform me, I reckon. Well, maybe I won't be reformed. Who was it,
Bob?"

"The Presbyterian Missionary," he confessed reluctantly, "a nervy
little chap named Wynkoop; he came in to see me last night while you
were asleep." He faced her open scorn unshrinkingly, his mind fully
decided, and clinging to one thought with all the tenacity of his
nature.

"A preacher!" her voice vibrant with derision, "a preacher! Well, of
all things, Bob Hampton! You led around by the nose in that way! Did
he want you to bring me to Sunday school? A preacher! And I suppose
the fellow expects to turn me over to one of his flock for religious
instruction. He'll have you studying theology inside of a year. A
preacher! Oh, Lord, and you agreed! Well, I won't go; so there!"

"As I understand the affair," Hampton continued, as she paused for
breath, "it was Lieutenant Brant who suggested the idea of his coming
to me. Brant knew Gillis, and remembered you, and realizing your
unpleasant situation, thought such an arrangement would be for your
benefit."

"Brant!" she burst forth in renewed anger; "he did, did he! The
putty-faced dandy! I used to see him at Bethune, and you can bet he