But at this hour, Annixter, for all his resolutions, could no longer control his thoughts.

As he stripped the saddle from the buckskin and led her to the watering trough by the stable corral, his heart was beating thick at the very notion of being near Hilma again.

It was growing dark, but covertly he glanced here and there out of the corners of his eyes to see if she was anywhere about.

Annixter--how, he could not tell--had become possessed of the idea that Hilma would not inform her parents of what had passed between them the previous evening under the Long Trestle.

He had no idea that matters were at an end between himself and the young woman.