The girl did not look at the man, but rode silent for a while.  “I think I understand you, and you are very kind—­but it is impossible.”

“No,” said Alton grimly.  “You don’t understand me.  There’s not room enough up here for Hallam and me, and I’ve a deal to square off with him already.  Now when you get your notice you will send word to me?”

“Yes,” said the girl, as one making a swift decision, and there was a sudden flash of hope in her eyes.

“That is a bargain,” said Alton, with the little soft laugh of his.  “Then when the deal’s fixed up all the winnings will not be counted over by Mr. Hallam.”

Miss Deringham heard nothing further, and understood very little of what had reached her, while though unusually gracious to Seaforth she found him distinctly unresponsive.

She, however, lent Miss Townshead a hat when they reached the ranch, and made no comment when Seaforth rode home with her.  It was late that night when the latter found Alton smoking in a somewhat dubious mood upon the verandah.

“Is there anything worrying you?” said he.

“Oh, yes,” said Alton grimly.  “There’s work of all kinds waiting, and nothing done to-day.  Somehow women seem to play the devil with a man’s plans, Charley.”

“Yes,” said Seaforth, “they not infrequently do.”

“Well,” said Alton, “I wouldn’t mind so much if I’d pleased anybody, but I haven’t, you see.  I was talking at large about something after we’d got the steer, when Miss Nellie turned right round on me.  Then I came back here, and Miss Deringham didn’t seem pleased with me.”

“Did she tell you so?” said Seaforth, smiling, and Alton turned upon him savagely.

“No, sir, she did not,” said he.  “Anyway, it wasn’t necessary.  You understand these folks from the old country, Charley?”

“It is,” said Seaforth dryly, “a tolerably bold venture to assert that one understands anybody.”

“Well,” said Alton, “you know what I mean.  Now do you think Miss Deringham was vexed because she didn’t get that fishing?  You see she is tolerably keen on it.  Of course, if I had thought of it I might have sent you with her.”

“No,” said Seaforth, smiling.  “I should scarcely fancy that was the reason, and I don’t fancy the arrangement suggested would have given Miss Deringham any great pleasure.  Nor do I think I should have gone.”

“No?” said Alton inquiringly.

“No,” said Seaforth dryly.  “I’m not Alton of Somasco—­and Carnaby—­you see.”

Alton regarded him sternly out of half-closed eyes.  “There are jokes that don’t please me, Charley,” he said, and then laughed softly.  “I’m a fool with a red-hot temper, but it’s a consolation that I know a bigger one than me.”

“You need not be bashful, Harry.  You mean me?”

Alton nodded as he turned upon his heel, and Seaforth watched him meditatively.  “I wish I was as sure of it as you seem to be,” said he.  “Well, I’m occasionally thankful I’m not a rich man, nor much of a beauty.”