"Hear what?"

"What I've got to say to you."

She looked at him suddenly. Then she said, with a disdainful
glance around her: "I see I am helpless here, and--thanks to your
trickery--alone. Have a care, sir; I warn you that you will have to
answer to Major Randolph for any insolence."

"I reckon you won't tell Major Randolph what I have to say to you," he
returned coolly.

Her lips were nearly a grayish hue, but she said scornfully: "And why
not? Do you know who you are talking to?"

The man came lazily forward to the carryall, carelessly brushed aside
the slack reins, and resting his elbows on the horse's back, laid his
chin on his hands, as he looked up in the woman's face.

"Yes; I know who I'm talking to," he said coolly. "But as the major
don't, I reckon you won't tell him."

"Stand away from that horse!" she said, her whole face taking the
grayish color of her lips, but her black eyes growing smaller and
brighter. "Hand me those reins, and let me pass! What canaille are you
to stop me?"

"I thought so," returned the man, without altering his position; "you
don't know ME. You never saw ME before. Well, I'm Jim Dawson, the nephew