"New country for me." "Shore.

I seen thet from your tracks an' your last camp.

Wal, where was you headin' for before you got lost ?" The query was deliberately cool, with a dry, crisp ring.

Jean felt the lack of friendliness or kindliness in it.
"Grass Valley.

My name's Isbel," he replied, shortly.
The rider attended to his drinking horse and presently rebridled him; then with long swing of leg he appeared to step into the saddle.
"Shore I knowed you was Jean Isbel," he said.