The rattle of wagon wheels wakened him.  A ranch team had just pulled up to the hitch-rail in front of the hotel and a small boy was tying the horses.  The boy’s hat seemed familiar to Bartley.  Then Bartley heard a voice.  Suddenly he was wide awake.  Little Jim was down there, talking to some one.  Bartley rose and peered down.  Little Jim’s companion was Dorothy.  Bartley could not see her face, because of her wide hat-brim.  Stepping back into the room, Bartley picked up his pencil and, leaning out of the window, started it rolling down the gentle slope of the veranda roof.  It dropped at Dorothy’s feet.  She started and glanced up.  Bartley waved a greeting and disappeared from the window.

Decently clothed, and, imagining that he was in his right mind, he hastened downstairs.

Little Jim expressed no surprise at seeing Bartley, but the youngster’s eyes were eager.

He shook hands, like a grown-up.  “Got that twenty-two, yet?”

“Haven’t seen one, Jimmy.  But I won’t forget.”

“There’s a brand-new twenty-two over to Hodges’ store, in the window,” declared Little Jim.

“That so?  Then we’ll have to walk over and look at it.”

“I done looked at it already,” said Little Jim.

“Well, then, let’s go and price it.”

“I done priced it.  It’s twelve-fifty.”

“Well, what do you say to going over and buying it?”

“Sure!  Is dad gone?”

“Yes.  He left here last night.  I thought Miss Gray was with you,” said Bartley.

“Sure!  She had to come to town to buy some things.  She’s over to Hodges’ now.”

Dorothy had not waited for him to appear.  Bartley was a bit piqued.  But he asked himself why should he be?  They were the merest acquaintances.  True, they had spent several hours together, reading and discussing verse.  But no doubt that had been purely impersonal, on her part.  With Little Jim as his guide, Bartley entered Hodges’ general store.  Dorothy was at the back of the store making purchases.  Bartley watched her a moment.  He felt a tug at his sleeve.

“The guns is over on this side,” declared Little Jim.

“We’ll have to wait until Mr. Hodges gets through waiting on Miss Gray,” said Bartley.

Little Jim scampered across the aisle and stood on tiptoe peering into a showcase.  There were pistols, cheap watches, and a pair of spurs.

Little Jim gazed a moment and then shot over to Dorothy.  “Say, Dorry, can’t you hurry up?  Me and Mr. Bartley are waitin’ to look at that twenty-two in the window.”

“Now, Jimmy!  Oh, how do you do!” And Dorothy greeted Bartley with considerable poise for a young woman who was as interested in the Easterner as she was.

“Don’t let us interrupt you,” said Bartley.  “Our business can wait.”

Little Jim scowled, and grimaced at Dorothy, who excused herself to Bartley and went on making her purchases.  They were really insignificant purchases—­some pins, some thread, and a roll of binding tape.  Insignificant as they were, Bartley offered to carry them to the wagon for her.  Dorothy declined his offer and took them to the wagon herself.