me!"
"Now you've done it!" exclaimed Janey. She was not sure yet what he had done, but it was certainly more than he felt guiltily conscious of.
"I was beside myself," said Randolph, hurriedly. "You must believe me. I--I had no such intention. I'm--I'm as--as shocked as you are... You fell right into my arms. And I--I did it involuntarily."
"You may tell that to the marines," replied Janey, recovering, and getting back to the business of her part.
"You won't believe me?" he demanded, getting red in the face.
"Certainly not," returned Janey, coldly, as she smoothed her disheveled hair. "I wouldn't put it beyond you to treat every girl that way--especially if she was fool enough to visit you alone out here."
He glared at her in mingled wrath and distress.
"I never kissed a girl before!" he asserted, stoutly.
"Well!" exclaimed Janey, in simulated contemptuous doubt, when really she was thrilled with what seemed the truth in his eye and voice. "You must have a poor opinion of my intelligence. If you had come out like a man and told me straight that you couldn't resist such an opportunity and were glad of it, I might have forgiven you. It's nothing to be kissed. But you've pretended to be so self-righteous. You've scorned my young men friends. You've deceived me into thinking highly of you--respecting you. And I honestly believe I did like you... Now I'm quite sure I ought never ride out alone."
Randolph groaned. Then he leaped into the trench and seizing the pick he began to dig with great violence, making the stones fly and the dust rise. Janey spoke again, but either he did not or would not hear her. Whereupon she recovered her sombrero and turned to find her way down the slope. She had just reached the rough part, and was searching for the trail when she heard Randolph behind her.
"I quite forgot. I can't let you attempt getting down here alone," he said.
"Mr. Randolph, I'd fall and break my neck before I'd let you help me," returned Janey, loftily.
"I warn you not to fall again within my reach," he declared, grimly.
Janey started down, aware that he followed closely. She was glad she had her face turned away from him. When she got to the broken sections of rock she performed apparent feats of balancing which would have put a tightrope walker to shame. She would sway this way and that, and almost fall. Then she leaped the fissures, and took some chances of hurting herself. But she descended the jumble of rocks safely, and then the rest of the slope with ease. Randolph had halted about a third of the way from the bottom, and when Janey looked over the saddle of her horse she saw him sitting on a stone, watching her.
"Good-by, wild woman," he called.
"Good-by, cave man," she retorted.
Mounting she rode away without looking back, which was an act that required will power. Once in the cedars, out of sight and alone, she reveled in the unexpected turn and success of her venture. Randolph was simply an honest boy, very much in love, and at the mercy of his feelings. He had helped along her little plan by placing himself at a disadvantage. How astounded he had been, then furious at himself and her! Janey remembered that he had winced when he said it was nothing to be kissed. Well, she had lied in that. It was a great deal to be kissed, as she began to realize now. She had chosen to lead him to believe kissing was merely a casual and familiar thing in her young life, when in reality she had not been nearly as indiscriminate in her games as she had let on.
Janey believed she was angrier than ever with Randolph, a great deal more so now than at her father. Yet there was a tempering voice she would not listen to. It was piercing her armor to some extent when she rode right upon Ray, so abruptly that she was surprised. That ended her meditations, for Ray appeared curious and keen about her visit to the archaeologist. It did not occur to Janey to tantalize Ray, or to stop and torment the cowboys at their fencepost digging.
"Now you've done it!" exclaimed Janey. She was not sure yet what he had done, but it was certainly more than he felt guiltily conscious of.
"I was beside myself," said Randolph, hurriedly. "You must believe me. I--I had no such intention. I'm--I'm as--as shocked as you are... You fell right into my arms. And I--I did it involuntarily."
"You may tell that to the marines," replied Janey, recovering, and getting back to the business of her part.
"You won't believe me?" he demanded, getting red in the face.
"Certainly not," returned Janey, coldly, as she smoothed her disheveled hair. "I wouldn't put it beyond you to treat every girl that way--especially if she was fool enough to visit you alone out here."
He glared at her in mingled wrath and distress.
"I never kissed a girl before!" he asserted, stoutly.
"Well!" exclaimed Janey, in simulated contemptuous doubt, when really she was thrilled with what seemed the truth in his eye and voice. "You must have a poor opinion of my intelligence. If you had come out like a man and told me straight that you couldn't resist such an opportunity and were glad of it, I might have forgiven you. It's nothing to be kissed. But you've pretended to be so self-righteous. You've scorned my young men friends. You've deceived me into thinking highly of you--respecting you. And I honestly believe I did like you... Now I'm quite sure I ought never ride out alone."
Randolph groaned. Then he leaped into the trench and seizing the pick he began to dig with great violence, making the stones fly and the dust rise. Janey spoke again, but either he did not or would not hear her. Whereupon she recovered her sombrero and turned to find her way down the slope. She had just reached the rough part, and was searching for the trail when she heard Randolph behind her.
"I quite forgot. I can't let you attempt getting down here alone," he said.
"Mr. Randolph, I'd fall and break my neck before I'd let you help me," returned Janey, loftily.
"I warn you not to fall again within my reach," he declared, grimly.
Janey started down, aware that he followed closely. She was glad she had her face turned away from him. When she got to the broken sections of rock she performed apparent feats of balancing which would have put a tightrope walker to shame. She would sway this way and that, and almost fall. Then she leaped the fissures, and took some chances of hurting herself. But she descended the jumble of rocks safely, and then the rest of the slope with ease. Randolph had halted about a third of the way from the bottom, and when Janey looked over the saddle of her horse she saw him sitting on a stone, watching her.
"Good-by, wild woman," he called.
"Good-by, cave man," she retorted.
Mounting she rode away without looking back, which was an act that required will power. Once in the cedars, out of sight and alone, she reveled in the unexpected turn and success of her venture. Randolph was simply an honest boy, very much in love, and at the mercy of his feelings. He had helped along her little plan by placing himself at a disadvantage. How astounded he had been, then furious at himself and her! Janey remembered that he had winced when he said it was nothing to be kissed. Well, she had lied in that. It was a great deal to be kissed, as she began to realize now. She had chosen to lead him to believe kissing was merely a casual and familiar thing in her young life, when in reality she had not been nearly as indiscriminate in her games as she had let on.
Janey believed she was angrier than ever with Randolph, a great deal more so now than at her father. Yet there was a tempering voice she would not listen to. It was piercing her armor to some extent when she rode right upon Ray, so abruptly that she was surprised. That ended her meditations, for Ray appeared curious and keen about her visit to the archaeologist. It did not occur to Janey to tantalize Ray, or to stop and torment the cowboys at their fencepost digging.
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