Bob Hampton of Placer

Widely as these two companions differed in temperament and experience,

it would be impossible to decide which felt the greater uneasiness at

the prospect immediately before them. The girl openly rebellious, the

man extremely doubtful, with reluctant steps they approached that tall,

homely yellow house--outwardly the most pretentious in Glencaid--which

stood well up in the valley, where the main road diverged into numerous

winding trails leading toward the various mines among the foothills.

They were so completely opposite, these two, that more than one chance

passer-by glanced curiously toward them as they picked their way onward

through the red dust. Hampton, slender yet firmly knit, his movements

quick like those of a watchful tiger, his shoulders set square, his

body held erect as though trained to the profession of arms, his gray

eyes marking every movement about him with a suspicion born of

continual exposure to peril, his features finely chiselled, with

threads of gray hair beginning to show conspicuously about the temples.

One would glance twice at him anywhere, for in chin, mouth, and eyes

were plainly pictured the signs of strength, evidences that he had

fought stern battles, and was no craven. For good or evil he might be

trusted to act instantly, and, if need arose, to the very death. His

attire of fashionably cut black cloth, and his immaculate linen, while

neat and unobtrusive, yet appeared extremely unusual in that careless

land of clay-baked overalls and dingy woollens. Beside him, in vivid

contrast, the girl trudged in her heavy shoes and bedraggled skirts,

her sullen eyes fastened doggedly on the road, her hair showing ragged

and disreputable in the brilliant sunshine. Hampton himself could not

remain altogether indifferent to the contrast.

"You look a little rough, Kid, for a society call," he said. "If there

was any shebang in this mud-hole of a town that kept any women's things

on sale fit to look at, I 'd be tempted to fix you up a bit."

"Well, I'm glad of it," she responded, grimly. "I hope I look so blame

tough that woman won't say a civil word to us. You can bet I ain't

going to strain myself to please the likes of her."

"You certainly exhibit no symptoms of doing so," he admitted, frankly.

"But you might, at least, have washed your face and fixed your hair."

She flashed one angry glance at him, stopping in the middle of the

road, her head flung back as though ready for battle. Then, as if by

some swift magic of emotion, her expression changed. "And so you're

ashamed of me, are you?" she asked, her voice sharp but unsteady.

"Ashamed to be seen walking with me? Darn it! I know you are! But I

tell you, Mr. Bob Hampton, you won't be the next time. And what's

more, you just don't need to traipse along another step with me now. I

don't want you. I reckon I ain't very much afraid of tackling this

Presbyterian woman all alone."