Ruth accepted the proffered resting place and loosened the thongs of her hat, inspected her face in a tiny mirror produced from somewhere, rubbed her nose with a handkerchief, and then gave her attention to her companions.

“Our garden has grown splendidly since you fixed the ditch,” she said.  “Thanks to you.  How is yours?”

“It has expired.”

“Then you shall have things out of ours—­if you’ll come get them.  See, I’m using that to decoy you.  There are beans, peas, lettuce, radishes, and new potatoes, not very large yet, of course.  I know just what you’re doing:  working hard, eating only canned stuff, skimping your food, and ruining your digestion.”

Bryant laughed.  Her tone had expressed indignation, while her face was directly accusatory.

“We seem to have fair health, don’t we, Dave?” he remarked.

“You look positively thin,” said she.  “And as for this poor starved shadow that you call Dave!  Well, I won’t say my thoughts.  For a penny I’d invite myself to dinner at your house just to see what you do have.”

At this possibility both the engineer and his young assistant displayed signs of consternation.  Under pressure of work housekeeping had been an unimportant trifle frequently postponed; last meal’s dishes were washed while the next meal was preparing; clothes were left where they were carelessly flung; and surveying tools, maps, and papers littered the rooms.  No, it was not a dwelling in which to entertain a feminine guest.

“Maybe I had better go there and clear up things some,” Dave stated, uneasily.  And without awaiting a reply from Bryant, he set off through the sagebrush for the house.

Ruth began to laugh, resting her cheeks in her hands.

“That poor solemn boy, he took me seriously!” she exclaimed.  “I shouldn’t come alone, of course; it wouldn’t be proper—­and Imo would be horrified.  Well, you may as well sit down and talk to me, Mr. Bryant, for you can’t work alone, and I’ve come to stay awhile.  Imogene told me what a nice talk she had with you the afternoon I went to the ruins, and I hoped you’d come soon again, but you never did.”

“Perhaps I haven’t been exactly neighbourly.”

He lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged, considering her.

“I thought that possibly I had offended you in going off so abruptly with Charlie Menocal,” she said, with eyes fastened on his.  “You and he aren’t very good friends.  I know——­”

“We’re not friends at all; we’re enemies.”

“That need not keep you away from us.  He has been very civil and kind, but neither Imogene nor I have any particular fancy for the man.  Besides, I think his chief interest in life centres around a girl living on Diamond Creek, named Louise Graham; he hinted that they were as good as engaged.  Very likely we shall see little more of him.  So if your dislike at meeting him is the reason for your staying away, you haven’t a good reason at all.  Don’t you think Imo and I ever tire of listening to each other?  Any two girls would, living alone by themselves.  After your promise at the ford we were delighted—­and how many calls have we had from you?  Just one.  With me away, too!”