she defended them; he wondered himself at the strength of
the appeal these simple things made to him. Already he was dreading the
day when he must mount his horse and ride back into the turbulent life
from which she had for a time, snatched him.

"I'll hate to go back to sheepherding," he told her one day at lunch,
looking at her across a snow-white tablecloth upon which were a service
of shining silver, fragile china teacups and plates stamped Limoges.

He was at the moment buttering a delicious French roll and she was
daintily pouring tea from an old family heirloom. The contrast between
this and the dust and the grease of a midday meal at the end of a "chuck
wagon" lent accent to his smiling lamentation.

"A lot of sheepherding you do," she derided.

"A shepherd has to look after his sheep, y'u know."

"You herd sheep just about as much as I punch cows."

"I have to herd my herders, anyhow, and that keeps me on the move."

"I'm glad there isn't going to be any more trouble between you and the
Lazy D. And that reminds me of another thing. I've often wonered who
those men could have been that attacked you the day you were hurt."

She had asked the question almost carelessly, without any thought that
this might be something he wished to conceal, but she recognized her
mistake by the wariness that filmed his eyes instantly.

"Room there for a right interesting guessing contest," he replied.

"You wouldn't need to guess," she charged, on swift impulse.

"Meaning that I know?"

"You do know. You can't deny that you now."

"Well, say that I know?"

"Aren't you going to tell?"

He shook his head. "Not just yet. I've got private reasons for keeping
it quiet a while."

"I'm sure they are creditable to you," came her swift ironic retort.

"Sure," he agreed, whimsically. "I must live up to the professional
standard. Honor among thieves, y'u know."

CHAPTER 9. MISS DARLING ARRIVES

Miss Messiter clung to civilization enough, at least, to prefer that her
chambermaid should be a woman rather than a Chinese. It did not suit her
preconceived idea of the proper thing that Lee Ming should sweep floors,
dust bric-a-brac, and make the beds. To see him slosh-sloshing around
in his felt slippers made her homesick for Kalamazoo. There were other
reasons why the proprieties would be better served by having another
woman about the place; reasons that had to do with the chaperone system
that even in the uncombed West