"I've heard nothing," she replied. "Tell me. Why did they fight?"

"Report was that Bradley talked oncomplementary about you."

Joan experienced a sweet, warm rush of blood--another new and
strange emotion. She did not like Bradley. He had been persistent
and offensive.

"Why didn't Jim tell me?" she queried, half to herself.

"Reckon he wasn't proud of the shape he left Bradley in," replied
Roberts, with a laugh. "Come on, Joan, an' make back tracks for
home."

Joan was silent a moment while she looked over the undulating green
ridges toward the great gray and black walls. Something stirred deep
within her. Her father in his youth had been an adventurer. She felt
the thrill and the call of her blood. And she had been unjust to a
man who loved her.

"I'm going after him," she said.

Roberts did not show any surprise. He looked at the position of the
sun. "Reckon we might overtake him an' get home before sundown," he
said, laconically, as he turned his horse. "We'll make a short cut
across here a few miles, an' strike his trail. Can't miss it."

Then he set off at a brisk trot and Joan fell in behind. She had a
busy mind, and it was a sign of her preoccupation that she forgot to
thank Roberts. Presently they struck into a valley, a narrow