ed boots. They wore
wide-brimmed hats, and cursed or spat with a fervor and vehemence that
indicated enjoyment. Adrian presently made out the stocky form of
McTurpin, glass upraised. Before him on the bar were a fat buckskin bag
and a bottle. He was boasting of his luck at the mines.

A companion "hefted" the treasure admiringly. "Did you make it gamblin',
Alec?" he inquired.

"No, by Harry!" said the other, tartly. "I'm no gambler any more. I'm a
respectable gentleman with a mine and a ranch," he emptied his glass
and, smacking his lips, continued, "and a beautiful young girl that
loves me ... loves me. Understand?" His hand came down upon the other's
shoulder with a sounding whack.

"Where is she?" asked the other, coaxingly. "You're a cunning hombre,
Alec. Leave us have a look at her, I say."

"Bye and bye," McTurpin spoke more cautiously. "Bye and bye ... then you
can be a witness to the marriage, Dave." He drew the second man aside
across the room, so near to Adrian that the latter stepped back to avoid
discovery.

"She's a respectable lass," he heard McTurpin whisper. "Yes, it's marry
or nothing with her ... and I'm willing enough, the Lord knows. Can ye
find me a preacher, old fellow?"

He could not make out the other's reply. Their voices died down to an
imperceptible whisper as they moved farther away. Stanley thought they
argued over something. Then the man called Dave passed him and went
swiftly up the hill.

Vaguely troubled, Stanley returned to the veranda. It was unoccupied for
chilly evening breezes had driven the loungers indoors. Absently he
paced the creaking boards and, having reached a corner of the building,
continued his promenade along what seemed to be the rear of the
building. Here a line of doors opened on the veranda like the upper
staterooms of a ship.

Why should he trouble his mind about McTurpin and a paramour? thought
Adrian. Yet his thought was curiously disturbed. Something Spear had
read from a letter vexed him dimly like a memory imperfectly recalled.
What was there about McTurpin and a child? Whose child? And what had it
to do with the veiled woman who had ridden with the gambler from the
mines. Impishly the facts eluded him. Inez would know. But Inez must not
be bothered just now--at this time.

He paused and listened. Was that a woman sobbing? Of course not. Only
his nerves, his silly sentiment. He would go home and forget the
whole thing.

There it was again. This ti