arm lay loosely along the back of the
bench, her head dropped slightly forward, the wind still stirring her
hair.

"Hello." That was her only greeting. But the tone of it went through
him like a soft breath of wind in the woods following a lull in the
storm.

"Hello," and that was his only reply as he sat down on the bench beside
her, the fiddle across his knees.

Her arm lying lazily along the back of the bench was almost touching
him; but he had not noticed it, and she left it there.

"I don't hardly know where to begin," Bob said directly, and laughed to
try to cover up his emotions. He knew that no matter where he began he
never could put in words the horror of the night when the ghost of
utter defeat and failure walked with him over that terrible desert; nor
yet the great upsweep of triumph that engulfed him when he reached the
water gates the next day and learned that Noah Ezekiel and a
double-barrelled shotgun had saved the crops three days before--his and
all the rest.

To feel one moment that he was in debt for life, beaten and wrecked,
and the next to know he would be worth in three months at least a
hundred thousand dollars! No, he could not put that in words; so he
merely twanged softly the violin strings with his thumb, and remarked
casually:

"Well, I got the money."

"What money?" Still the girl did not stir. She was so blissfully
lethargic, and she was not thinking at all of money or cotton.

"For poor old Ah Sing, and for Jim Crill. I seized Reedy's cotton this
morning and sold it this afternoon. Got $410,000 for the cotton and
the seed. But Jenkins was in deeper than we knew. He's gambled away
fifty thousand or so. After I'd paid up all his debts, including the
duty, there was only $25,000 left for Reedy. And Mrs. Barnett came
down on me like a squawking hen, demanding that. Said Reedy had
promised it to her for getting the loans from her uncle. But Reedy
denied it."

"What did you do?" asked Imogene as he paused. "I compromised--told
Reedy I was entitled to that much for commission and damages, but that
I'd give it to him provided he and Mrs. Barnett married. They did."

Imogene laughed, a rich warm laugh in which there was no sting of
revenge, only humour for human faults. This was such a good world, and
such a beautiful desert!

Bob did not think of anything more to tell of his exploits. Somehow
his mind would not stay on them. Instead, he looked up at the stars
an