the house on the Quemado Road. As for Sylvia, she did not speak to Harboro
of her visitor. From his point of view, she thought, there would be
nothing to be proud of in the fact that Mrs. Mendoza had called. And so
Harboro was destined to go on to the end without knowing that there was
any such person as the wife of Jesus Mendoza.

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PART IV

THE HORSE WITH THE GOLDEN DAPPLES

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CHAPTER XVII

Two events which had a bearing upon Sylvia's destiny occurred at about
this time. I am not sure which came first: the invitation to a celebration
out at the Quemado settlement, or the arrival on the border of Runyon, the
mounted inspector.

The coming of Runyon caused a distinct ripple in the social circles of the
two border towns. He was well connected, it was known: he was a cousin to
a congressman in the San Angelo district, and he had a brother in the
army.

He was a sort of frontier Apollo; a man in his prime, of striking build--a
dashing fellow. He had the physical strength, combined with neatness of
lines, which characterized Buffalo Bill in his younger days. He was a
blond of the desert type, with a shapely mustache the color of flax, with
a ruddy skin finely tanned by sun and wind, and with deep blue eyes which
flashed and sparkled under his flaxen brows. He was a manly appearing
fellow, though there was a glamour about him which made prosaic folk
suspicious.

He rode a dun horse with golden dapples--a slim, proud thing which suited
Runyon in every detail. When you saw him mounted you thought of a parade;
you wondered where the rest of it was--the supernumerary complement.

The man was also characterized by the male contingent of the border as a
"dresser." He was always immaculately clad, despite the exposure to which
his work subjected him. He seemed to have an artist's sense of color
effects. Everything he put on was not only faultless in itself, but it
seemed specially designed and made for him. In the set of his sombrero and
the style of his spurs he knew how to suggest rakishness without quite
achieving it; and when he permitted his spirited horse to give way to its
wayward or playful moods there was something just a little sinister in his
mirth. He looked as much at home in conventional clothes as in his
inspector's outfit, and he immediately became