“Come on down, and I’ll show you what I can about the camera,” he said to Bill Holmes.  “The light’s too tricky to-day to work by, but I’ll give you a few pointers that you’ll have to keep in mind when I’m too busy to think about telling you.  Once I get to directing a scene, I’m liable to be busy as a one-armed prospector fighting a she-bear with cubs.  I’m counting on you to remember what all I’va told you, in case I forget to tell you again.  You see, I’ve ruined a hundred and fifty feet of negative already, just by overlooking a couple of bets.  You’re here to help keep that from happening again. Sabe?”

“Well, there’s one or two things I don’t have to learn,” Bill Holmes told him by way of encouragement.  “You get the camera set and ready, and I can turn it any speed you want.  I’ll guarantee that much.  I learned that all right in projection.”

“That’s exactly why I brought you out here, brother,” Luck assured him.  “That’s why—­”

“Oh, Luck Lindsay!” came Rosemary’s voice excitedly.  “Mr. Forrman wants you right away quick!  Somebody’s coming that he doesn’t know, and he says it’s up to you!”

“What’s up to me?” Luck came hurrying down the ladder backwards.  “Has Applehead gone as crazy as his cat?  I’ve nothing to do with strangers coming to the ranch.”

“Yes,” said Rosemary, twinkling her brown eyes at him, “but this is a woman.  Mr. Forrman refuses to take any responsibility—­”

“So do I. I don’t know of any woman that’s liable to come trailing me up.  Where is she?”

From the doorway Rosemary pointed dramatically, and Luck went up and stood beside her, rolling down his sleeves while he stared at the trail.  Down the slope, head bent to the whooping wind, a woman came walking with a free, purposeful stride that spoke eloquently of accustomedness to the open land.  Her skirts flapped but could not impede her movements.  She seemed to be carrying some bright-hued burden upon her shoulders, and she was, without doubt, coming straight down to the ranch as to a much-desired goal.

“You can search me,” he said emphatically in answer to Applehead’s question.  “Must be some senora away off the trail.  I never saw her before in my life.”

“We-ell, now, that there lady don’t act like she’s lost,” Applehead declared, watching her intently as she came on.  “Aims to git whar she’s goin’, if I’m any jedge of actions.  An’ she shore is hittin’ fur here.  Ain’t been ary woman on this ranch in ten year, till Mrs. Green come t’other day.”

“She’s none of my funeral; I don’t know her from Adam,” Luck disclaimed, and went back into the dark room as though be had urgent business there, which he had not.  In the back of his mind was an uneasy feeling that the newcomer was “some of his funeral,” and yet he could not tell how or why she should be.  In her walk there was a teasing sense of familiarity; he did not know who she was, but he felt uncomfortably that he ought to know.  He fumbled among the litter on the shelf, putting things in order; and all the while his ears were sharpened to the sounds that came muffled through the closed door.