In Mrs. Belding, Gale found a woman of noble proportions and striking appearance.  Her hair was white.  She had a strong, serious, well-lined face that bore haunting evidences of past beauty.  The gaze she bent upon him was almost piercing in its intensity.  Her greeting, which seemed to Dick rather slow in coming, was kind though not cordial.  Gale’s first thought, after he had thanked these good people for their hospitality, was to inquire about Mercedes.  He was informed that the Spanish girl had awakened with a considerable fever and nervousness.  When, however, her anxiety had been allayed and her thirst relieved, she had fallen asleep again.  Mrs. Belding said the girl had suffered no great hardship, other than mental, and would very soon be rested and well.

“Now, Gale,” said Belding, when his wife had excused herself to get supper, “the boys, Jim and Laddy, told me about you and the mix-up at Casita.  I’ll be glad to take care of the girl till it’s safe for your soldier friend to get her out of the country.  That won’t be very soon, don’t mistake me....I don’t want to seem over-curious about you—­Laddy has interested me in you—­and straight out I’d like to know what you propose to do now.”

“I haven’t any plans,” replied Dick; and, taking the moment as propitious, he decided to speak frankly concerning himself.  “I just drifted down here.  My home is in Chicago.  When I left school some years ago—­I’m twenty-five now—­I went to work for my father.  He’s—­he has business interests there.  I tried all kinds of inside jobs.  I couldn’t please my father.  I guess I put no real heart in my work.  The fact was I didn’t know how to work.  The governor and I didn’t exactly quarrel; but he hurt my feelings, and I quit.  Six months or more ago I came West, and have knocked about from Wyoming southwest to the border.  I tried to find congenial work, but nothing came my way.  To tell you frankly, Mr. Belding, I suppose I didn’t much care.  I believe, though, that all the time I didn’t know what I wanted.  I’ve learned—­well, just lately—­”

“What do you want to do?” interposed Belding.

“I want a man’s job.  I want to do things with my hands.  I want action.  I want to be outdoors.”

Belding nodded his head as if he understood that, and he began to speak again, cut something short, then went on, hesitatingly: 

“Gale—­you could go home again—­to the old man—­it’d be all right?”

“Mr. Belding, there’s nothing shady in my past.  The governor would be glad to have me home.  That’s the only consolation I’ve got.  But I’m not going.  I’m broke.  I won’t be a tramp.  And it’s up to me to do something.”