Promptly she had answered, "I'm not afraid, thank you, in the least"; and after a mornent had added, not to seem hostile, "Good night, big partner."But despite her calm assurance she knew she did not feel so entirely safe as if it had been one of her own ranch boys on the other side of the fire, or even that other vagabond who had made so direct an appeal to her heart.If she were not afraid, at least she knew some vague hint of anxiety.
She was still thinking of him when she fell asleep, and when she awakened the first sound that fell on her ears was his tuneful whistle.Indeed she had an indistinct memory of him in the night, wrapping the blankets closer about her when the chill air had half stirred her from her slumber.The day was still very young, but the abundant desert light dismissed sleep summarily.She shook and brushed the wrinkles out of her clothes and went down to the creek to wash her face with the inadequate facilities at hand.After redressing her hair she returned to the fire, upon which a coffee pot was already simmering.
She came up noiselessly behind him, but his trained senses were apprised of her approach.
"Good mo'ning! How did y'u find your bedroom?" he asked, without turning from the bacon he was broiling on the end of a stick.
"Quite up to the specifications.With all Wyoming for a floor and the sky for a ceiling, I never had a room I liked better.But have you eyes in the back of your head?"He laughed grimly."I have to be all eyes and ears in my business." "Is your business of a nature so sensitive?""As much so as stocks on Wall Street.And we haven't any ticker to warn us to get under cover.Do you take cream in your coffee, Miss Messiter?"She looked round in surprise."Cream?"
"We're in tin-can land, you know, and live on air-tights.I milk my cowwith a can-opener.Let me recommend this quail on toast." He handed her a battered tin plate, and prepared to help her from the frying-pan.
"I suppose that is another name for pork?""No, really.I happened to bag a couple of hooters before you wakened.""You're a missionary of the good-foods movement.I shall name your mission St.Sherry's-in-the-Wilderness.""Ah, Sherry's! That's since my time.I don't suppose I should know my way about in little old New York now."She found him eager to pick up again the broken strands that had connected him with the big world from which he had once come.It had been long since she had enjoyed a talk more, for he expressed himself with wit and dexterity.But through her enjoyment ran a note of apprehension.He was for the moment a resurrected gentleman.But what would he be next? She had an insistent memory of a heavenly flood of music broken by a horrible discord of raucous oaths.
It was he that lingered over their breakfast, loath to make the first move to bring him back into realities; and it was she that had to suggest the need of setting out.But once on his feet, he saddled and packed swiftly, with a deftness born of experience.
"We'll have to ask Two-step to carry double to-day," he said, as he helped her to a place behind him.
Two-step had evidently made an end of the bronco spree upon which he had been the evening before, for he submitted sedately to his unusual burden.The first hilltop they reached had its surprise to offer the girl.In a little valley below them, scarce a mile away, nestled a ranch with its corrals and buildings.
"Look!" she exclaimed; and then swiftly, "Didn't you know it was there?""Yes, that's the Hilke place," he answered with composure."It hasn't been occupied for years.""Isn't that some one crossing to the corral now?" "No.A stray cow, I reckon."They dropped into a hollow between the hills and left the ranch ontheir left.She was not satisfied, and yet she had not grounds enough upon which to base a suspicion.For surely the figure she had seen had been that of a man.
