He stared at her in a kind of horror.

“How can you be so hard to me?” she murmured.

She overdid it.  Behind the intoxicating, soft appeal of her eyes, he perceived a dangerous glitter, and steeled himself.

“Come outside a moment,” she whispered, turning up her face a little.

The unregenerate man in him leaped to accept what she offered and still hold firm.  If she chose to play that game let her take the consequences?  His more generous self held back.  Somehow he realized that the humiliation would almost kill her—­later.

“It is too late,” he said coldly.

This in itself was a humiliation the proud Colina could not have conceived herself living after.  From between narrowed lids she shot him a glance of the purest hate, and quickly turned away.

The riding crop switched the air like the tail of an angry cat.  There was a silence.  All watched to see what she would do next.

Meanwhile the mill was grinding smoothly.  The young miller was hidden from Colina by the barricade of grain bags.  Finally she looked over the top and saw him attending the machine.

“Greer!” she exclaimed in surprise.

The boy started, and turned a pair of stricken eyes in her direction.  His ruddy cheeks paled a little.  Manifestly she wielded a power over him too.

“Are you against me?” she murmured sadly.

This was the same tone she had just used to Ambrose.  His lip curled.  “He has to do what I tell him or be knocked on the head,” he said quickly.

Colina ignored this.  “You could fight for me if you would,” she murmured to the boy.

A hot little flame of jealousy scorched Ambrose’s breast.  He laughed jeeringly.  “Who’s next?” he cried.

Colina, not looking at him, drew a baleful breath between her teeth.  Suddenly she turned, and with hanging head slowly made her way toward the door.

Ambrose thought she was beaten, and a swift wave of compassion almost unmanned him.  He abruptly turned away.  He could stand anything but to see Colina defeated and grieving.  He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out to her.

She had another card to play.  She stopped at the door, and looked about through her lashes to see if the way out was clear.

“Duncan!” she softly cried.  The word was accompanied by a dazzling smile of invitation.

The boy dropped his wrench as if he had been shot, and vaulting over the grain bags, was out through the door after her before any one could stop him.

CHAPTER XX.

UNDERCURRENTS.

As Greer disappeared in the darkness several men started in pursuit.

Ambrose was quicker.  He flung himself into the opening, and thrust them back.  Though he was on fire with jealousy, he would not go after Greer, nor let the others go.