McAdam arrived early, in a light buggy, drawn by a team of spirited horses. Their heaving dust–lathered flanks attested to the manner in which they had been driven. One of the cowboys unhitched the horses, while the stylishly groomed young man strolled, whip in hand, toward the cabin, where her father was breaking his Sunday rule by working. Ina saw distinctly from her hammock, and precisely what she expected happened. McAdam at once came out of the cabin and headed toward the grove. Ina watched him coming with mingled contempt and disgust. Even Less Setter struck her as being more of a man. At least she could feel fear of him.

When McAdam had approached within a few rods Ina pretended to be asleep, in the hope that he might show something of the instinct of a gentleman. But as he drew near he began to tiptoe, and he came so softly that Ina could scarcely hear him. She regretted her pretense, but she meant to stick it out as long as possible. Suddenly she felt him close—caught the odor of liquor. And she opened her eyes and violently swerved in the hammock just in time to avoid being kissed. Then she sat up. Anger would have consumed her, but for the flashing thought that at last he had given her real offense. She was almost glad to see him.

“Hod do, Ina! Thought you were asleep,” he greeted her, in no wise discomfited.

“I’m quite well, thank you, Mr. McAdam,” replied Ina, pertly. “But I wasn’t asleep.”

“What’d you lay that way for?” he demanded, his eyes losing their smile. His face was slightly heated, but he did not appear under the influence of drink.

“I wanted to see what you’d do if I had been asleep. I found out.”

“Well, I was only going to kiss you. What of that?”

“You insulting cad!” retorted Ina, rising to her feet. Even on the moment she was struck by something in McAdam very similar to what she had noted in Setter. These men had returned to the Blaine environment with singular suppositions.

“It’s no insult for a fellow to try to kiss his girl, is it?” he asked, with the most amazing effrontery.

“I’m not your girl,” returned Ina, icily.

“Well, if you’re honest about it, and you’re not, then my dad and me are getting a rotten deal,” he said, bluntly. But he doubted her honesty. The half smile on his smug face attested to his half–won conquest.

“Mr. McAdam, you amaze me. If you and your father are getting a rotten deal, or any kind of a deal, it is absolutely without my knowledge. I’ve been perfectly honest with you. I never liked you. I despise you now. You never struck me as particularly bright. Besides, your enormous conceit makes you blind to the truth. But do you understand me now? If not—”

“Yes, that’s enough, Ina Blaine,” he returned, hoarsely, his face growing darkly red, and he shook a gloved fist in her face. “Your father let us think you were as good as engaged to me. On the strength of that my dad went thousands of dollars into cattle and ranch deals. And more—he got all balled up with that damned slick Less Setter. You——”