thing in her protective manner that Foster found singularly
charming. Then Lawrence beckoned and held out his hand.

"I'm uncommonly glad to see you, Jake, but how did you get here?"

"Why aren't you in California?"

They both laughed and Lawrence turned to the lady.

"This is my neglectful partner, as I dare say you have guessed. Mrs.
Stephen, of Victoria, Jake."

She gave Foster her hand and he was next presented to Miss Lucy
Stephen. Then Lawrence indicated Pete, who waited, looking very big
and muscular but quite at ease.

"Who's this and where did you get him? I'll engage that he was born
between Ettrick and Liddel."

"He kens!" Peter remarked with a twinkle. "My name's no' far frae
Ettrick, sir."

"My friend, Pete Scott," said Foster. "You have heard the ladies'
names, Pete, but this is my partner, Mr. Featherstone, from the Garth."

Pete lifted his hand to his forehead and the movement had a touch of
dignity. "Your servant, all; an' if ye'll alloo it, Mr. Foster's
friends are mine."

Lawrence laughed. "A very proper sentiment, and a true Borderer! But
you haven't told us how you found him, Jake."

"It's a long tale," said Foster. "Besides, I'm hungry. So I expect is
Pete."

Lucy Stephen rang a bell. "Tea ought to be ready. We often take it
here."

The tea was brought a few minutes afterwards and when Lucy gave him his
cup Foster sat in a basket chair studying his comrade. Lawrence's face
was pinched and his pose languid, but Foster thought he was not so ill
as he had been. He did not know how much he ought to ask and had
decided to wait until they were alone when Lawrence smiled.

"You needn't be alarmed, partner. I'm very much better than I was and
will soon be quite fit again."

"We have good ground for hoping so," Lucy Stephen added in a friendly
tone, and Foster thought she had noted his anxiety and liked him for it.

Her remark seemed to warrant his looking at her and he approved what he
saw. The girl was attractive and had character, but what struck him at
first sight was the protective gentleness she showed his comrade. He
liked her eyes, which were a soft, clear blue, while her supple figure
and warm-tinted skin hinted that she was vigorous. It was plain that
she had not Alice Featherstone's reserve and pride, nor he thought the
depth of tenderness that the latter hid. She was softer and more
pliable, for Alice was marked by an unflinching steadfastness. He
smiled