," said he. "That is to say, I was. I
allowed I wanted to hear a woman sing. It wasn't him, it was me. He
come along to take care of me, like, because he's used to that sort of
thing, and I ain't. He's my chaperoon. He didn't know, you know--didn't
either of us know--but what I might be took advantage of, and stole by
some gipsy queen."

"But--but the phonograph--"

Tom looked around. "Where is it?" he asked.

"Mr. Anderson kicked it down the hill."

"Did he? Good for him! I was goin' to do it my own self. You see,
ma'am, I come down here to hear a song about Annie Laurie. I done so.
Ma'am, I heard about a 'face that was the fairest.' Him? Was he
surprised to see you-all this morning? Was, eh? Well, he didn't seem so
almighty surprised, to my way of thinkin', last night when I told him you
was comin' up here from El Paso. I don't know how he knowed it, and I
ain't sayin' a word."

A strange lightening came to Constance Ellsworth's heart. The droop at
the corners of her mouth faded away. She slid down off the blanket roll
and edged along across the ground until she sat at his side. She reached
out her hand for the skillet.

"That spider isn't clean in the least," said she.

"Oh, well," apologized Tom Osby, leaning back against the wagon wheel and
beginning to fill a pipe. "I suppose there might be just a leetle sand
left in it, but that don't hurt. Do you want a dish towel? Here's one
that I've used for two years, freightin' from Vegas to Heart's Desire.
Me and it's old friends."

"Let your dishes dry in the sun if you can't do better than that,"
reproved Constance. "Ah, you men!"

"You're right hard to get along with, ma'am. Us gettin' you two
breakfasts, too!"

They looked into each other's faces and Constance laughed. "The air is
delightful--isn't it a beautiful world?" she exclaimed joyously.

"It shore is, ma'am," rejoined Tom Osby, "if you think so. It's all in
the way you look at things."

"I came out here for my health, you know," said she, carefully
explanatory.

"Yes, I know. You ain't any healthier than a three-year-old deer on good
pasture. Ma'am, I'm sorry for you, but I wouldn't really have picked you
out for a lunger. You know, I don't believe Dan Andersen's health is
very good, either. He's needin' a little Sky Top air, too,"

She froze at this. "I don't care to intrude into Mr. Andersen's
affairs," she replied, "nor to have him intrude into my own."

"Wh