r a friend."

Ernest grunted. "I wouldn't have a temperament like yours for real
money, Roger."

"I don't see that yours is giving you much joy right now, old chap."

"Never you mind," returned Ernest. "I'd rather suffer as I am suffering
than never have loved her."

Roger, who had helped his friend to recover from a good many
heart-breaks patted him on the shoulder. "Awfully sorry, old Ern."

"I know what you're thinking," said Ernest, "but this one is different,
just as she's different. I'll never get over this. You realize that
she's different, don't you, you wooden image?"

Roger answered thoughtfully. "Yes, Charley is different. I really like
her very much. But she's like a younger brother, so clean-cut and direct
and--" His voice trailed away to nothing as suddenly he thought of
Charley's hand on his head, that memorable afternoon in the engine
house. Indeed, he wondered if the thought of that touch would ever leave
him. He believed that it would become as much a part of his memory as
his mother's gentle touch.

Finally, Ernest said, "If it weren't for you and the help I can give
you, I'd go home."

"You _are_ hard hit, old man! Maybe it'll be easier when Elsa comes."

"Yes, I think it will," replied Ernest. "I thought I'd go in to-morrow
and hang around Archer's till she gets here. You'll be tinkering on the
engine and won't miss me. Suppose we can fix up Mrs. von Minden's tent
for her, instead of her buying a new one."

"Good idea! But, by Jove, the thought of going to Archer's Springs for
mental distraction is either funny or pathetic! I don't know which. I
hope I can have a test of the plant on Monday."

"So do I," replied Ernest. "Guess I'll go to bed. Gustav's blown out his
bug."

"I'm with you," agreed Roger, and was asleep long before Ernest ceased
to toss in the hot silence of the tent.

It was late Sunday afternoon when dust on the south trail announced the
coming of Elsa and Ernest. Gustav and Roger had given the entire morning
to putting the camp in order. Gustav had achieved his _chef-d'oeuvre_
in a huge "welcome" made of yucca stalks outlined over the living tent
door. Roger had given Peter to Felicia and about two o'clock she
appeared, riding the little burro whose face she explained she had
washed with soap and water for the occasion. Charley and Dick followed
not long after.

For the first time Roger realized that Charley's isolation had meant
more to her than she allowed any of