On the porch of the house a group awaited Jean's coming, rather
silently, he thought. Wide-eyed children were there, very shy and
watchful. The dark face of his sister corresponded with the image of
her in his memory. She appeared taller, more womanly, as she embraced
him. "Oh, Jean, Jean, I'm glad you've come!" she cried, and pressed
him close. Jean felt in her a woman's anxiety for the present as well
as affection for the past. He remembered his aunt Mary, though he had
not seen her for years. His half brothers, Bill and Guy, had changed
but little except perhaps to grow lean and rangy. Bill resembled his
father, though his aspect was jocular rather than serious. Guy was
smaller, wiry, and hard as rock, with snapping eyes in a brown, still
face, and he had the bow-legs of a cattleman. Both had married in
Arizona. Bill's wife, Kate, was a stout, comely little woman, mother
of three of the children. The other wife was young, a strapping girl,
red headed and freckled, with wonderful lines of pain and strength in
her face. Jean remembered, as he looked at her, that some one had
written him about the tragedy in her life. When she was only a child
the Apaches had murdered all her family. Then next to greet Jean were
the little children, all shy, yet all manifestly impressed by the
occasion. A warmth and intimacy of forgotten home emotions flooded
over Jean. Sweet it was to get home to these relatives who loved him
and welcomed him with quiet gladness. But there seemed more. Jean was
quick to see the shadow in the eyes of the women in that household and
to sense a strange reliance which his presence brought.

"Son, this heah Tonto is a land of milk an' honey," said his father, as
Jean gazed spellbound at the bounteous supper.

Jean certainly performed gastronomic feats on this occasion, to the
delight of Aunt Mary and the wonder of the children. "Oh, he's
starv-ved to death," whispered one of the little boys to his sister.
They had begun to warm to this stranger uncle. Jean had no chance to
talk, even had he been able to, for the meal-time showed a relaxation
of restraint and they all tried to tell him things at once. In the
bright lamplight his father looked easier and happier as he beamed upon
Jean.

After supper the men went into an adjoining room that appeared most
comfortable and attractive. It was long, and the width of the house,
with a huge stone fireplace, low ceiling of hewn timbers and