moments of waiting; "Nitschkan
is up at Colina, and Mrs. Thomas."

"Nitschkan!" A faintly humorous smile crept from Gallito's mouth up to
his eyes.

He was genuinely interested if Flick was not. "What is she doing there?"

"She came up to look after those prospects of hers, nurse them along a
little, I guess, and to hunt and fish some, I guess, particularly hunt
and fish. She says she's going to take a bear-skin or so back with her."

"She sure will, if she says so," returned Gallito confidently.

"Of course, she got wise to Jose right away." Flick spoke rather
anxiously.

"Of course, being Nitschkan." Gallito's tone was quite composed and
equable. "Well, she's safe, and she'll keep him in order if anybody
can." Again that grimly humorous smile played about his mouth. "Why did
she bring Mrs. Thomas?"

Flick laughed. "To keep her in order, too. Mrs. Thomas is big and
pretty, with no mind of her own, and she got tangled up in some fool
love affair that her friends didn't approve of, so when Nitschkan
started off on this last gipsy expedition of hers they sent Mrs. Thomas
with her."

Gallito was about to answer and then, suddenly, he seemed to stiffen,
his hand, which was conveying a match to his cigarette, remained
motionless, the flame of the match flared up and then went out in a gust
of wind. "Look, Bob, look," he said, in a low voice. "What do you see
out there?"

Flick's eyes, keener even than his, swept the desert. "By George!" he
whispered huskily; "it's her, her alone, and coming like the wind."

"I hope," cried Gallito and gnawed his lip, "that she has done nothing
that will get us into trouble."

"I hope to God she has," said Flick. "The desert'll take care that she
gets into no trouble. It'll be as silent as the grave. Just another case
of a reckless tenderfoot getting lost out there in the sand, that's
all."

It was indeed Pearl, and, as Flick had said, coming like the wind. She
pulled her horse up as she neared the gate and, when she reached it,
stopped him abruptly, slipped down from the saddle, threw the bridle
over the fence paling and ran toward the two men on the porch. Her face
had changed but little since she had left Hanson among the palms. Even
her wild ride had failed to bring back its color, and the curl of her
upper lip still revealed her teeth.

She stood for a moment before them, slashing her skirt with her riding
crop, then she cast it from her and sank down on the porch as if