"I asked you to take
me there. You led me away from there deliberately, I believe now."
"My trail doesn't happen to lead to Cariboo Meadows, that's all,"
Roaring Bill coolly told her. "If you must go back there, I shan't
restrain you in any way whatever. But I'm for home myself. And that,"
he came close, and smiled frankly up at her, "is a better place than
Cariboo Meadows. I've got a little house back there in the woods.
There's a big fireplace where the wind plays tag with the snowflakes in
winter time. There's grub there, and meat in the forest, and fish in
the streams. It's home for me. Why should I go back to Cariboo
Meadows? Or you?"
"Why should _I_ go with you?" she demanded scornfully.
"Because I want you to," he murmured.
They matched glances for a second, Wagstaff smiling, she half horrified.
"Are you clean mad?" she asked angrily. "I was beginning to think you
a gentleman."
Bill threw back his head and laughed. Then on the instant he sobered.
"Not a gentleman," he said. "I'm just plain man. And lonesome
sometimes for a mate, as nature has ordained to be the way of flesh."
"Get a squaw, then," she sneered. "I've heard that such people as you
do that.
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