The dining-room was, in its way, also picturesque.  The exceedingly plain table was covered with a clean white cloth.  The furniture, owing to some fortunate accident of choice, was not ornate but of plain straight lines, redeemed by painted ollas filled with flowers.  The white walls were decorated with two pictures, a lithograph of the Madonna,—­which seemed entirely in keeping with the general tone of the room, but which would have looked glaringly out of place anywhere else,—­and an enlarged full-length photograph, framed, of an exceedingly tall and gorgeous cowboy, hat in hand, quirt on wrist, and looking extremely impressive.  Beside the cowboy stood a great, shaggy dog—­Chance.  And, by chance, the picture was a success.

“Why, it’s you, Sun!” exclaimed Corliss, striding to the picture.  “And it’s a dandy!  I’d hang it in the front room."’

“That’s what Neeter was sayin’.  But I kind of like it in here.  You see, Neeter sets there and I set here where I can see me picture while I’m eatin’.  It kind of gives me a good appetite.  ‘Course, lookin’ out the window is fine.  See them there mesas dancin’ in the sun, and the grass wavin’ and me cows grazing and ’way off like in a dream them blue hills!  It’s sure a millionaire picture!  And it don’t cost nothin’.”

“That’s the best of it!” said Corliss heartily.  “We’re going to build—­over on the mesa near the fork.  You remember?”

Sundown’s flush was inexplicable to Margery, but Corliss understood.  He had ridden the trail toward the fork one night. . . .  But that was past, atoned for. . . .  He would live that down.

“It’s a purty view, over there,” said Sundown gently.

And the two men felt that that which was not forgotten was at least forgiven—­would never again be mentioned.

“And me kitchen,” said Sundown, leading the way, “is Neeter’s.  She runs it.  There’s more good eats comes out of it than they is fancy crockery in it, which just suits me.  And out here”—­and the party progressed to the back yard—­“is me new corral and stable and chicken-coop.  I made all them improvements meself, durin’ the winter.  Reckon you saw the gasoline-engine what does the pumpin’ for the tanks.  I wanted to have a windmill, but the engine works faster.  It’s kind of hot, ma’am, and if you’ll come in and set down I reckon me wife’s got her hair—­”

“Wah!  Wah!  Wah!” came in a crescendo from the bedroom.

Sundown straightened his shoulders.  “Gee Gosh, he’s gone and give it away, already!”

Corliss and his wife glanced at their host inquisitively.

“Me latest improvement,” said Sundown, bowing, as Anita, a plump brown baby on her arm, opened the bedroom door and stood bashfully looking at the strangers.

“And me wife,” he added.

Corliss bowed, but Margery rushed to Anita and held out her arms.  “Oh, let me take him!” she cried.  “What big brown eyes!  Let me hold him!  I’ll be awfully careful!  Isn’t he sweet!”