But thoughts of imminent punishment were not in Lawler’s mind as he faced Ruth.  There was nothing but humorous concern in his eyes and voice.

“Did he hurt you, Ruth?”

“I—­I think not,” she smiled; “but I have no doubt that he would have thrashed me soundly if you hadn’t come when you did.  I am sorry it happened, but I just had to discipline him.  He was setting a bad example for the other pupils.”

“Teaching school isn’t the best job in the world, is it?”

“Decidedly not!” She looked quickly at Lawler, for something in his voice hinted of subtlety; and when she saw his eyes agleam with the whimsical humor that was always in them when he spoke of his hope of winning her, she knew that he had attacked her obliquely.

Her cheeks flushed, and she drooped her shining eyes from his, murmuring low: 

“But I am going to keep at it for the present, Kane.”

“I was hoping—­” he began.  But he paused when she shook her head.

“Is that what you rode to town for?” she asked.

“That’s the big reason,” he returned.  “The other is that I’m here to sell Gary Warden my cattle.”

“I don’t like Gary Warden!” she declared.

His eyes twinkled.  “I’ve heard that before—­two or three times.  By the time I see him I’ll be disliking, him, myself.”

The class, Ruth now noted, had departed—­undoubtedly to follow Jimmy Singleton; or perhaps seizing the opportunity so suddenly presented to play truant.  At all events the school was deserted except for themselves.

But Ruth did not seem to mind, nor did Lawler express any regret for the absence of an audience.  He grinned widely at Ruth.

“You’ll not get them back today, I reckon.  If you’re riding back home I’d be pleased to——­”

“But you have business with Gary Warden!” she reminded him.

“That can wait.  Blackburn won’t have the herd here until tomorrow.”

Her eyes were glowing with pleasure, and the faint flush on her face betrayed her still more.  But she looked at him resolutely.

“I shall stay the day out, whether the children come back or not,” she said.  “And you must not permit me to interfere with business.”

It cost her something to tell him that, for the lure of him had seized her long ago—­during the first days of their acquaintance, in fact—­and she was deliberately refusing the happiness that was offered her—­because she could not confess her father’s crimes to this man, and because she would not marry him unless he knew.

And not even then, perhaps.  For she knew something of Lawler’s high ideals, the rugged honesty of him, his straightforwardness and his hatred for the thieves who stole cattle—­thieves like her father.  She couldn’t marry him, feeling that each time he looked at her she must feel that he would be thinking of the misdeeds of her parent.  That would be unbearable.