Howard hurried on.  The lunch counter girl, following him with critical eyes, demanded for him or anyone else to hear: 

‘Who’s your bean-pole friend, Kid?’

But the answer Howard did not hear.  He swung out to the side to be free of the town and galloped on to Sanchia’s tent, which he found readily.  Sanchia herself was in front of it, just preparing to saddle her white mare.

‘Hello, Al,’ she greeted him carelessly, though her eyes narrowed at him speculatively.

‘Where have the Longstreets gone?’ he asked without preliminary.

‘Back in the hills, Bear Valley way,’ she replied, still scrutinizing him.  She marked the look of relief in his eyes and laughed cynically and withal a trifle bitterly.  ’On the Red Hill trail.  Going to see them?’

‘Yes.’  He reined away, and then added stiffly, ‘Thank you.’

‘Wait a minute,’ she called to him.  ’I’m just going up there myself.  You might saddle for me, and I’ll ride with you.’

He paused and looked her sternly and steadily in the eyes.  His voice was cold and his words were outspoken.

’I had rather ride alone, and you know it.  Further, after the way you have tricked that man, I’d think you’d draw off and leave them alone.  You can’t do a thing like that twice.’

For an instant the look in her eyes was baffling.  Then there shot through the inscrutability of it a sudden gleam of malice that was like a spurt of flame.  It was the fire which before now Howard’s attitude had kindled there.

‘What you men see in that little fool, I don’t know!’ she cried hotly.  ’What has she that I haven’t?  I could have made you the biggest man in the country; I would have given everything and held nothing back.  I am even honest enough to say so, and I am not afraid to say so.  And you are stupid like every other man.  Oh, I am done with the crowd of you!’ she broke out violently, half hysterically.  ’Laugh at me, will you?  Turn your back on me, will you?’ She paused and panted out the words.  ’Why, if you came crawling to me now I’d spit on you.  And, so help me God, I’ll ruin the last one of you and your precious flock of lambs before I have done with you.  If Jim Courtot can’t do the trick, I’ll do for you first and Jim next.’

He wheeled his horse and left her, groping wonderingly for an explanation of her fury.  He had not spoken with her above a score of times in his life.  He had merely been decent to her when, in the beginning, it struck him that after all she was only a defenceless woman and that men were hard on her.  That his former simple kindness would have awakened any serious affection had failed to suggest itself to him.