"Here's the tie pile," Fleetwood announced, in an undertone, when they
reached the place. "You stay here, Val, and I'll look farther along the
fence; maybe the horses are down there."

Valeria did not reply, but stood very straight and dignified in the shadow
of the huge pile of rotting railroad ties. He was gone but a moment, and
came anxiously back to her.

"They're not here," he said, in a low voice. "Don't worry, dear. He'll
come--I know Kent Burnett."

"Are you sure?" queried Val sweetly. "From what I have seen of the
gentleman, your high estimate of him seems quite unauthorized. Aside from
escorting me to the hotel, he has been anything but reliable. Instead of
telling you that I was here, or telling me that you were sick, he went
straight into a saloon and forgot all about us both. You know that. If he
were your friend, why should he immediately begin carousing, instead of--"

"He didn't," Fleetwood defended weakly.

"No? Then perhaps you can explain his behavior. Why didn't he tell me you
were sick? Why didn't he tell you I came on that train? Can you tell me
that, Manley?"

Manley, for a very good reason, could not; so he put his arms around her
and tried to coax her into good humor.

"Sweetheart, let's not quarrel so soon--why, we're only two hours married!
I want you to be happy, and if you'll only be brave and--"