“Dad, have you talked over all your deals with a good lawyer?” asked Ina, earnestly.

“Not one of them. What do I want to pay lawyer’s fees for? Setter is lawyer enough.”

“But, Dad—how do you know he is honest?”

Her father straightened up with a jerk. “What? Honest? I never thought anythin’ else. Setter’s a mighty big man. He could buy an’ sell me ten times over…. Child, where did you get a queer idee that he might be—?”

A crunching of the gravel outside and a jingling of spurs interrupted Blaine’s question. Setter stepped into the doorway. When he saw Ina his wine–dark eyes leaped and his mobile face lighted with a smile that made him rather handsome. His gladness at sight of her was unmistakably sincere.

“Evenin’, Ina, was wonderin’ when I’d see you,” he said, approaching her. “Your dad told me how you chased that false–face with its little mustache back to Klamath. I’m tellin’ you I’d have chased him myself pretty soon.”

“Oh, I guess dad did the chasing,” replied Ina, nervously.

“Now some older chaps, like me, can have a chance,” he said, and taking hold of her arms above her elbows he gave her a gentle pull. He appeared smiling, suave, yet there was unveiled boldness in eyes and manner.

Ina did not move, nor look up at Setter. She watched her father while she stood there in Setter’s grasp. What she saw confirmed a suspicion born of that very moment. Setter had a hold on her father, who was realizing this and that it involved his daughter.

Then Ina slipped not gently out of Setter’s grasp and left the room. Soberly she bent her steps toward camp. What had only seemed vexatious and offensive had developed into a plot. In the first flush of this possibility she felt trapped, helpless. Her father was no match for Less Setter. How deeply he must have become involved! Setter’s air was that of a master of a situation, a conquest over which he exulted. Then Ina’s temper fired away her dread and into her mind flashed her mother’s advice.

“A strapping big cowboy who would fight for me!” murmured Ina, half aloud. “Oh, it sounds beautiful! I’d find one. But how can I—when—when I love Ben Ide.”

Here Ina halted in her tracks, aghast. Suddenly she began to tremble. Her heart had ambushed her and in a moment of poignant uncertainty had betrayed her with the truth. A simple natural confession, spoken aloud, suddenly grew to astounding proportions. Ben Ide! Love!—Ever since her childhood! The truth burst imperiously upon Ina, overwhelming her. Friendship, loyalty had been guises to deceive herself. She hurried on, suddenly afraid of being seen, of the sunlight, of herself. She ran, at first fleetly, to the grove, under the juniper trees, and then almost blindly into her tent, where she locked herself in, and leaned back against the door, hands clutched to her surging breast. Her terrible predicament dawned upon her. It was agony—that piercing staggering surrender to love. “Ben! Ben!” she whispered, wildly. “My God—it’s my life!”