his horse up with a sharp jerk of the reins before the blue-and-white sign of the saloon; he was half out of the saddle when a glimpse of something down the street altered his intention in a flash; he wheeled his horse, and, with one stirrup flying wildly, his big hat in his hand, his eyes on fire, he went racing back down the street and again stopped with a jerk.  This time the sign before him spelled hotel.  Leaving his horse to pant and fight flies, Yellow Barbee strode in at the open door.

Next came in due time Tod Barstow and the mule team and Longstreet.  They clattered along in clouds of high-puffed dust, harness jingling.  Barstow swung his leaders skilfully and narrowly around the broken corners of old adobes and slammed on his brake before the store, that is to say, half-way between saloon and hotel.  He climbed down, Longstreet after him.

Finally came the loiterers, Helen and Carr and Howard.  They noted Barbee’s roan at its hitching-rail; further they glimpsed through a thirsty-looking dusty vine—­that which Barbee had glimpsed before them.  Some one wearing cool, laundered white was out upon the side porch; Barbee’s voice, young and eager, low yet vibrant, bespoke Barbee’s proximity to the Someone.

‘The widow.’ said Carr.  He looked at Howard.  ’I’ll bet you a hat it’s Mrs. Murray, Al.’

It was vaguely impressed upon Helen that a significance less casual than the light words themselves lay in Carr’s remark.  She, too, looked at Howard.  There was a frown in his eyes.  Slowly, as his look met hers, a flush spread in his cheeks.  Carr saw it and laughed amusedly.

‘Look out, Al,’ he chuckled.  ‘She’ll get you yet.’

Now Howard laughed with him and the flush subsided.

‘John thinks he’s a great little josher, Miss Helen,’ he said lightly.  ’No doubt you’ll meet Mrs. Murray at lunch; you just watch the way she looks at John Carr!—­there’s the professor waiting for us.  John, I’ll lay you a bet of another hat!’

‘Well?’ asked Carr.

‘I’ll bet you Jim Courtot has turned up again.’

But Longstreet had sighted them and was out in the road calling to them, and Carr made no answer.

Chapter VII

Waiting for Moonrise

For upward of two hours Longstreet and Helen were at the store, making their purchases.  Carr said good-bye, promising to look them up at their camp at the ridge by the time they should be ready for callers; he shook hands warmly with the professor, and for a moment stood over Helen, looking steadily into her eyes.  She returned his regard frankly and friendlily, but in the end flushed a little.  When Carr went out, Howard, saying that he would be back presently, went out with him.

‘Two bang-up, square-shooting gents!’ cried Longstreet warmly.  Helen turned upon him in amazement.

‘Papa!’ she gasped.  ‘Where on earth did you get that sort of talk?’