Hig."

"I'll say they have. Got to have pretty good tools, too; and most of
the rifles I've seen round here are the old forty-fours."

"If they are Garman's men they'll have up-to-date rifles all right."

"Sure. The best money can buy." Higgins shrewdly estimated the range
to the palms. "Say, Payne, if they've got Springfields or something as
good, and can use them, we're making a fool play standing here."

"Lie down, there."

"Down hell! What I mean is we ought to get closer to 'em so we'd have
an even break with these little 30-30s."

"Then we'd be off our land. They've got to come to us."

"I see. What in the devil are they waiting for? Put your glasses on
those palms and see what you can see."

"Can't see a thing," reported Payne after a careful scrutiny of the
hammock. "The palms shut out the sun and hide them."

"They knew what they were doing when they went there, didn't they?"
said Higgins. "Nice, dark hiding place where they can lay safe and
have their targets out in the sun. You can do what you please, Payne,
but the first shot out of there I start for the hammock. There's a big
bunch of palmetto scrub south of it. I'll get in there and give 'em
hell-for-breakfast."

Payne was holding his glasses upon the palms. He had gotten the
perfect focus now and saw that a broad wagon trail led through the
middle of the hammock. Out of this opening presently came the three
riders, riding abreast at a walk. Payne started. A hot flush of
embarrassment flooded his face.

"Higgins; for heaven's sake, put down your gun. Put it down quick, I
say! Hide it. Get up and go to work, men. Hustle. It's all right.
Get a-going!"

He hid his rifle hurriedly, picked up a digger and set to work, grimly
ignoring Higgins' frantic demands for an explanation. He was working
furiously and the crew was following his example, when the three
riders, who were Garman, Mrs. Livingstone and the girl, came cantering
up to the fence line.

It was a different Garman than had faced Roger across the camp fire on
Deer Hammock; and it was a different girl than had ridden away from
Flower Prairie. Only Mrs. Livingstone seemed to be as Roger recalled
her, cold, affected; arrogant, and extremely conscious of the
importance of her position as chaperon.

Garman for the nonce was the courtier, the artistic idler, the
dilettante in the art of luxurious living; and Payne, conscious of his
dirt-smudged overalls, envied him t