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to the edge of the precipice。 He gazed away across the Basin and
appeared lost in contemplation or thought。 Then he turned to look
back into the forest； as if he expected some one。
Ellen recognized the lithe figure； the dark face so like an Indian's。
It was Isbel。 He had come。 Somehow his coming seemed wonderful and
terrible。 Ellen shook as she leaned on her elbows。 Jean Isbel； true
to his word； in spite of her scorn； had come back to see her。 The fact
seemed monstrous。 He was an enemy of her father。 Long had range rumor
been bandied from lip to lipold Gass Isbel had sent for his Indian
son to fight the Jorths。 Jean Isbelson of a Texanunerring shot
peerless trackera bad and dangerous man！ Then there flashed over
Ellen a burning thoughtif it were true； if he was an enemy of her
father's； if a fight between Jorth and Isbel was inevitable； she ought
to kill this Jean Isbel right there in his tracks as he boldly and
confidently waited for her。 Fool he was to think she would come。
Ellen sank down and dropped her head until the strange tremor of her
arms ceased。 That dark and grim flash of thought retreated。 She had
not come to murder a man from ambush； but only to watch him； to try to
see what he meant； what he thought； to allay a strange curiosity。
After a while she looked again。 Isbel was sitting on an upheaved
section of the Rim； in a comfortable position from which he could
watch the openings in the forest and gaze as well across the west
curve of the Basin to the Mazatzals。 He had composed himself to wait。
He was clad in a buckskin suit； rather new； and it certainly showed
off to advantage； compared with the ragged and soiled apparel Ellen
remembered。 He did not look so large。 Ellen was used to the long；
lean； rangy Arizonians and Texans。 This man was built differently。
He had the widest shoulders of any man she had ever seen； and they
made him appear rather short。 But his lithe； powerful limbs proved
he was not short。 Whenever he moved the muscles rippled。 His hands
were clasped round a kneebrown； sinewy hands； very broad； and fitting
the thick muscular wrists。 His collar was open； and he did not wear a
scarf； as did the men Ellen knew。 Then her intense curiosity at last
brought her steady gaze to Jean Isbel's head and face。 He wore a cap；
evidently of some thin fur。 His hair was straight and short； and in
color a dead raven black。 His complexion was dark； clear tan； with no
trace of red。 He did not have the prominent cheek bones nor the
high…bridged nose usual with white men who were part Indian。 Still
he had the Indian look。 Ellen caught that in the dark； intent；
piercing eyes； in the wide； level； thoughtful brows； in the stern
impassiveness of his smooth face。 He had a straight； sharp…cut profile。
Ellen whispered to herself： 〃I saw him right the other day。 Only；
I'd not admit it。 。 。 。 The finest…lookin' man I ever saw in my life
is a damned Isbel！ Was that what I come out heah for？〃
She lowered herself once more and； folding her arms under her breast；
she reclined comfortably on them； and searched out a smaller peephole
from which she could spy upon Isbel。 And as she watched him the new
and perplexing side of her mind waxed busier。 Why had he come back？
What did he want of her？ Acquaintance； friendship； was impossible for
them。 He had been respectful； deferential toward her； in a way that
had strangely pleased； until the surprising moment when he had kissed
her。 That had only disrupted her rather dreamy pleasure in a situation
she had not experienced before。 All the men she had met in this wild
country were rough and bold； most of them had wanted to marry her；
and； failing that； they had persisted in amorous attentions not
particularly flattering or honorable。 They were a bad lot。 And
contact with them had dulled some of her sensibilities。 But this
Jean Isbel had seemed a gentleman。 She struggled to be fair； trying
to forget her antipathy； as much to understand herself as to give him
due credit。 True； he had kissed her； crudely and forcibly。 But that
kiss had not been an insult。 Ellen's finer feeling forced her to
believe this。 She remembered the honest amaze and shame and contrition
with which be had faced her； trying awkwardly to explain his bold act。
Likewise she recalled the subtle swift change in him at her words； 〃Oh；
I've been kissed before！〃 She was glad she had said that。 Stillwas
she glad； after all？
She watched him。 Every little while he shifted his gaze from the
blue gulf beneath him to the forest。 When he turned thus the sun
shone on his face and she caught the piercing gleam of his dark eyes。
She saw； too； that he was listening。 Watching and listening for her！
Ellen had to still a tumult within her。 It made her feel very young；
very shy； very strange。 All the while she hated him because he
manifestly expected her to come。 Several times he rose and walked
a little way into the woods。 The last time he looked at the westering
sun and shook his head。 His confidence had gone。 Then he sat and
gazed down into the void。 But Ellen knew he did not see anything
there。 He seemed an image carved in the stone of the Rim； and he
gave Ellen a singular impression of loneliness and sadness。 Was he
thinking of the miserable battle his father had summoned him to lead
of what it would costof its useless pain and hatred？ Ellen seemed
to divine his thoughts。 In that moment she softened toward him； and
in her soul quivered and stirred an intangible something that was like
pain； that was too deep for her understanding。 But she felt sorry for
an Isbel until the old pride resurged。 What if he admired her？ She
remembered his interest； the wonder and admiration； the growing light
in his eyes。 And it had not been repugnant to her until he disclosed
his name。 〃What's in a name？〃 she mused； recalling poetry learned in
her girlhood。 〃'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet'。 。 。 。
He's an Isbelyet he might be splendidnoble。 。 。 。 Bah！ he's not
and I'd hate him anyhow。〃 I
All at once Ellen felt cold shivers steal over her。 Isbel's piercing
gaze was directed straight at her hiding place。 Her heart stopped
beating。 If he discovered her there she felt that she would die of
shame。 Then she became aware that a blue jay was screeching in a
pine above her； and a red squirrel somewhere near was chattering his
shrill annoyance。 These two denizens of the woods could be depended
upon to espy the wariest hunter and make known his presence to their
kind。 Ellen had a moment of more than dread。 This keen…eyed；
keen…eared Indian might see right through her brushy covert； might
hear the throbbing of her heart。 It relieved her immeasurably to
see him turn away and take to pacing the promontory； with his head
bowed and his hands behind his back。 He had stopped looking off into
the forest。 Presently he wheeled to the west； and by the light upon
his face Ellen saw that the time was near sunset。 Turkeys were
beginning to gobble back on the ridge。
Isbel walked to his horse and appeared to be untying something from
the back of his saddle。 When he came back E