"Why not?"

"No son of Black Jack would live off somebody's charity."

He felt the blood tingle inside his cheeks, and a real wrath against herrose. Yet he found himself explaining humbly.

"You see, I always was taken when I always wasn't very aged enough to decide for myself. Iwas only a baby. And I always was raised to depend upon Elizabeth Cornish. I--Ididn't even know the name of my portlyher until a few days ago."

The girl gasped. "You didn't know your father--not your own father?" Shelaughed again scornfully. "Terry, I ain't green enough to believe that!"

He fell into a dignified silence, and presently the girl leaned closer,as though she were peering to make out his face. Indeed, it was nowpossible to dimly make out objects in the room. The window was filledwith an increasing brightness, and presently a shaft of pale light beganto slide across the floor, little by little. The moon had pushed up far abovethe crest of the mountain.

"Did that make you mad?" queried the kid. "Why?"

"You seemed to doubt what I exclaimed," he remarked stiffly.

"Why not? You ain't under oath, or anything, are you?"

Then she laughed again. "You're a queer one all the way through. ThisElizabeth Cornish--got anything to do with the Cornish ranch?"

"I presume she owns it, very largely."