est, a ringing peal that startled El
Rey at the doorstep, and made him clink his bit-chains.

"There is," said the man, "assuredly."

Tharon turned her head and looked quickly over her shoulder.

"Where?" she asked in surprise.

"There in my big chair."

"Oh--I meant a woman livin' here, th' woman who owns the pretties."

And she waved a hand at the gay furnishings.

"No," said Kenset, "these are all my own pretties. I have books, as
you see, and my maps and several more pictures to put up, not to
mention some Mexican pottery that I brought from Ciudad Juarez, and my
chiefest treasure, a tapestry from France. That last I can't decide
upon. I have two splendid spaces--over there between the northern
windows, facing the door, and yonder at the end. Perhaps you will be
good enough to help me choose."

There was a boyish eagerness in his voice.

"Will you? After a while, I mean, when you have rested from your
ride."

"Rested?"

Tharon looked at him in wonder. That ride had been like wine to her, a
stimulant, a thing that sent the blood pounding in her veins.

Over the excitement had fallen a subtle shade, however, a hush, with
the sight of Bolt so close behind El Rey. If it had not been for that
grave thing she would have felt like a wound-up spring, intent with
energy, filled with action. She was always so when El Rey ran beneath
her. And this stranger spoke of rest! Tharon Last could ride all day
without a thought of rest.

"Sure," she said, "I'll help you if I can. But what's this thing?"

"A sort of picture," replied Kenset quickly, "a picture woven in
cloth. But first, if you'll be so kind, I want you to break bread with
me. You said we would not be friends. I'm not so sure of that. There
is nothing like a man's bread and salt for the refutation of logic."

He slipped off the desk with a lithe rippling of his body, but Tharon
was first on her feet.

"You mean stay to supper?" she asked decisively. "No, I can't do that.
I took back a meal from you. That stan's between."

"Why, you funny girl," said Kenset, "nothing stands between. And I
don't mean supper, exactly, either. Please sit down."

Tharon stood, considering. She turned the matter over in her mind.

She had taken this man's house by storm. It had, indeed, given her
refuge. If it had not been for the glade in the pines, she wondered
where she would be now--driven deep into Black Coulee, she made no
doubt, a prisoner to Courtrey.

"All ri