l imperturbability no one save Langford himself knew. During
all his days he had successfully fought against betraying his emotions and
now, at the age of fifty, there was nothing of his character revealed in
his face except sternness. If addicted to sharp practice in business no
one would be likely to suspect it, not even his victim. Could one have
looked steadily into his eyes one might find there a certain gleam to warn
one of trickery, only one would not be able to look steadily into them,
for the reason that they would not allow you. They were shifty, crafty
eyes that took one's measure when one least expected them to do so.

Over the motive which had moved her father to retire from business while
still in his prime Sheila did not speculate. Nor had she speculated when
he had bought the Double R ranch and announced his intention to spend the
remainder of his days on it. She supposed that he had grown tired of the
unceasing bustle and activity of city life, as had she, and longed for
something different, and she had been quite as eager as he to take up her
residence here. This had been the limit of her conjecturing.

He had told her when she left Albany that he would follow her in a month.
And therefore, in a month to the day, knowing his habit of punctuality,
Sheila had come to Lazette for him, having been driven over from the
Double R by one of the cowboys.

She saw the station agent now, beckoning to the driver of the wagon, and
she went over to the edge of the station platform and watched while the
trunks were tumbled into the wagon.

The driver was grumbling good naturedly to Langford.

"That darned six-o'clock train is always late," he was saying. "It's a
quarter to eight now an' the sun is goin' down. If that train had been on
time we could have made part of the trip in the daylight."

The day had indeed gone. Sheila looked toward the mountains and saw that
great long shadows were lengthening from their bases; the lower half of
the sun had sunk behind a distant peak; the quiet colors of the sunset
were streaking the sky and glowing over the plains.

The trunks were in; the station agent held the horses by the bridles,
quieting them; the driver took up the reins; Sheila was helped to the seat
by her father, he jumped in himself, and they were off down the street,
toward a dim trail that led up a slope that began at the edge of town and
melted into space.

The town seemed deserted. Sheila saw a man stand