"I just came over to ask how she was."

"Thank you. She is much better. We want you to have dinner with us."

"Thanks. But I got some beans going--"

"But this is chicken, man! And it is Sunday."

Lorry's gray eyes twinkled. "Chickens are right scarce up here. And chicken sure tastes better on Sunday. Was you goin' to turn your stock out with mine?"

"That's so!"

They turned Bronson's horses out, and watched them charge down the mesa toward the three animals grazing lazily in the morning sunshine.

"Your horses will stick with mine," said Lorry. "They won't stray now."

"Did I hear a piano this morning, or did I dream that I heard some one playing?"

"Oh, it was me, foolin' with Bud's piano in there. Bud's got an amazin'

music-box. Ever see it?"

"No. I haven't been in your cabin."

"Well, come right along over. This was Bud's camp when he was homesteadin'. Ever see a piano like that?"

Bronson gazed at the carved and battered piano, stepping close to it to inspect the various brands. "It is rather amazing. I didn't know Mr.

Shoop was fond of music."

"Well, he can't play reg'lar. But he sure likes to try. You ought to hear him and Bondsman workin' out that 'Annie Laurie' duet. First off, you feel like laughin'. But Bud gets so darned serious you kind of forget he ain't a professional. 'Annie Laurie' ain't no dance tune--and when Bud and the dog get at it, it is right mournful."

"I have seen a few queer things,"--and Bronson laughed,--"but this beats them all."

"You'd be steppin' square on Bud's soul if you was to josh him about that piano," said Lorry.

"I wouldn't. But thank you just the same. You have a neat place here, Adams."

"When you say 'neat' you say it all."

"I detest a fussy camp. One gets enough of that sort of thing in town.

Is that a Gallup saddle or a Frazier?"

"Frazier."

"I used a Heiser when I was in Mexico. They're all good."

"That's what I say. But there's a hundred cranks to every make of saddle and every rig. You said you were in Mexico?"

"Before I was married. As a young man I worked for some of the mines. I went there from college."

"I reckon you've rambled some." And a new interest lightened Lorry's eyes. Perhaps this man wasn't a "plumb tenderfoot," after all.

"Oh, not so much. I punched cattle down on the Ha.s.sayampa and in the Mogollons. Then I drifted up to Alaska. But I always came back to Arizona. New Mexico is mighty interesting, and so is Colorado.

California is really the most wonderful State of all, but somehow I can't keep away from Arizona."

"Shake! I never been out of Arizona, except when I was a kid, but she's the State for me."

A shadow flickered in the doorway. Lorry turned to gaze at a delicate slip of a girl, whose big brown eyes expressed both humor and trepidation.

"My daughter Dorothy, Mr. Adams. This is our neighbor, Dorothy."

"I'm right glad to meet you, miss."

And Lorry's strong fingers closed on her slender hand. To his robust sense of the physical she appealed as something exceedingly fragile and beautiful, with her delicate, clear coloring and her softly glowing eyes. What a little hand! And what a slender arm! And yet Lorry thought her arm pretty in its rounded slenderness. He smiled as he saw a turkey feather fluttering on her shoulder.

"Looks like that chicken was gettin' the best of you," he said, smiling.

"That's just it," she agreed, nothing abashed. "Father, you'll have to help."

"You'll excuse us, won't you? We'll finish our visit at dinner."

Lorry had reports to make out. He dragged a chair to the table. That man Bronson was all right. Let's see--the thirtieth--looked stockier in daylight. Had a good grip, too, and a clear, level eye. One mattock missing in the lookout cabin--and the girl; such a slender whip of a girl! Just like a young willow, but not a bit like an invalid. Buckley reports that his man will have the sheep across the reservation by the fourth of the month. Her father had said she was not over-strong. And her eyes! Lorry had seen little fawns with eyes like that--big, questioning eyes, startled rather than afraid.

"Reckon everything she sees up here is just amazin' her at every jump.

I'll bet she's happy, even if she _has_ got lungs. Now, a fella couldn't help but to like a girl like that. She would made a dandy sister, and a fella would just about do anything in the world for such a sister. And she wouldn't have to ask, at that. He would just naturally want to do things for her, because--well, because he couldn't help feeling that way. Funny how some wimmin made a man feel like he wanted to just about worship them, and not because they did anything except be just themselves. Now, there was that Mrs. Weston. She was a jim-dandy woman--but she was different. She always seemed to know just what she was going to say and do. And Mrs. Weston's girl, Alice. Reckon I'd sc.r.a.p with her right frequent. She was still--"

Dog-gone it! Where was he drifting to? Sylvestre's sheep were five days crossing the reserve. Smith reported a small fire north of the lookout.

The Ainslee boys put the fire out. It hadn't done any great damage.

Lorry sat back and chewed the lead pencil. As he gazed out of the window across the noon mesa a faint fragrance was wafted through the doorway.

He sniffed and grinned. It was the warm flavor of wild turkey, a flavor that suggested crispness, with juicy white meat beneath. Lorry jumped up and grabbed a pail as he left the cabin. On his way back from the spring, Bronson waved to him. Lorry nodded. And presently he presented himself at Bronson's cabin, his face glowing, his flannel shirt neatly brushed, and a dark-blue silk bandanna knotted gracefully at his throat.

"This is the princess," said Bronson, gesturing toward his daughter.

"And here is the feast."

"And it was a piano," continued Bronson as they sat down.

"Really? 'Way up here?"

"My daughter plays a little," explained Bronson.

"Well, you're sure welcome to use that piano any time. If I'm gone, the door is unlocked just the same."

"Thank you, Mr. Adams, I only play to amuse myself now."

Lorry fancied there was a note of regret in her last word. He glanced at her. She was gazing wistfully out of the window. It hurt him to see that tinge of hopelessness on her young face.

"This here chicken is fine!" he a.s.serted.

The girl's eyes were turned to him. She smiled and glanced roguishly at her father. Lorry laughed outright.