"I don't know but I should pull you out of that saddle and twist
your neck!" said Carrington hotly. Murrell's face underwent a
swift change.

"You're a bold fellow to force your way into a lover's quarrel,"
he said quietly. Carrington's arm dropped at his side. Perhaps,
after all, it was that. Murrell thrust his hand into his pocket.
"I always give something to the boy who holds my horse," he said,
and tossed a coin in Carrington's direction. "There--take that
for your pains!" he added. He pulled his horse about and rode
back toward the cross-roads at an easy canter.

Carrington, with an angry flush on his sunburnt cheeks, stood
staring down at the coin that glinted in the dusty road, but he
was seeing the face of the girl, indignant, beautiful--then he
glanced after Murrell.

"I reckon I ought to have twisted his neck," he said with a deep
breath.




CHAPTER VI

BETTY SETS OUT FOR TENNESSEE


Bruce Carrington came of a westward-looking race. From the low
coast where they had first settled, those of his name had