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Steve smiled pleasantly, and became absorbed in a rather noisy

bout of repartee going on between one swain and his lass, not so

absorbed, however, as not to notice that he and his unconscious

neighbors were becoming a covert focus of attention. He had

already noticed a shade of self-consciousness in the greeting of

those whom he met, a hint of a suggestion that he was on trial.

Among some this feeling was evidently more pronounced. He met

more than one pair of eyes that gave back to his genial nod cold

hostility.

At such an affair as this, Jed Briscoe was always at his best. He

was one of the few men in the valley who knew how to waltz well,

and music and rhythm always brought out in him a gay charm women

liked. His lithe grace, his assurance, his ease of manner and

speech, always differentiated him from the other ranchmen.