got a little love in your heart for ole Zang Whistler; yes or no?"
"No," answered Hilma quietly.
Zang's bridle hand gave such a jump his high-strung little horse flattened back his ears and made a quick feint at sunfishing. The rider quickly recovered himself, stretched out a hand to Christian's bridle to stop him. Pulling his own horse to a halt Zang faced the girl squarely.
"Looky here, Hilma girl, 'pears to me like we might as well have a show-down right here 'thout each of us makin' a show of holdin' back the high ace. Answer me true; just how do you figger yourself—you with your little bundle of clothes on your saddle horn an' ridin' to Teapot Spout with Zang Whistler. I'm putting it blunt an' plain as the business end of a sixshooter: Are you Zang Whistler's woman or are you not?"
A hot wave of color hung a danger signal in each of the girl's cheeks, and into her eyes leaped the fighting fire. Zang's heart cried out that never had this girl been more regally wonderful to look upon.
"You do know how to choose words. Zang Whistler's woman! That sounds pretty!
