"Madonna!--my Madonna!" he murmured in ardent adoration.
"Oh, please! when I've asked you not to!" she implored. "It is not right! I--I am not!--" Tears glistened in her soft eyes. She bent over to suppress a sob that might have awakened the sleeping infant.
Ashton gazed up at her, wonder and contrition mingling with his deepening adoration. "Forgive me, Miss Chuckie! But I meant it--I feel it! I never before felt this way towards any girl!... I know I have no right to say anything now. I am a pennyless adventurer, a disgraced, disinherited son, a mere cowpuncher apprentice; but if, by next spring, I shall have--"
"Oh, see. They're getting such a long way ahead of us!" exclaimed the girl, urging her pony to a faster gait.
The animal started forward with a suddenness that left Ashton behind. He made no effort to regain his position beside the girl's stirrup. Instead, he lagged farther and farther in the rear, his face crimson with mortification and anger. As his chagrin deepened, his flush became almost feverish and there was a suggestion of wildness in his flashing eyes. It was as though his passion was intensifying some injury to his brain caused by the concussion of the bullet on his skull.
When the loiterer came over the second ridge into view of the booming chasm in the top of the plateau, he saw the others down near the brink. The baby had been laid on a soft bed of pine needles, and Blake was leading the ladies down to look over into the abyss, one on each arm.
Ashton's chagrin flared into jealous hate. He felt certain that the girl was quite capable of strolling along the extreme edge of the precipice without a trace of giddiness. Yet now she was clinging to Blake even more closely than was Genevieve. There was more than apprehension in the clasp of her little brown hand on the engineer's shoulder. Her cheek brushed his sleeve.
The anger of the onlooker was so intense that he did not see Gowan riding towards him from the left. The puncher dismounted and came forward, his cold gaze fixed on Ashton's face.
"So you're beginning to savvy it, too," he remarked.
Ashton confronted him, vainly attempting to mask his telltale look and color with a show of hauteur. "I never discuss personal matters with acquaintances of your stamp," he said.