aid.

"I've rented a room."

"Well, you can onrent it. You're stayin' with me."

"No, Bob. I reckon I won't do that. I'll live alone awhile."

"No, sir. What do you take me for? We'll load yore things up on the
buckboard."

Dave shook his head. "I'm much obliged, but I'd rather not yet. Got to
feel out my way while I learn the range here."

To this Bob did not consent without a stiff protest, but Sanders was
inflexible.

"All right. Suit yoreself. You always was stubborn as a Missouri mule,"
Hart said with a grin. "Anyhow, you'll eat supper with me. Le's go to the
Delmonico for ol' times' sake. We'll see if Hop Lee knows you. I'll bet
he does."

Hart had come in to see a contractor about building a derrick for a well.
"I got to see him now, Dave. Go along with me," he urged.

"No, see you later. Want to get my trunk from the depot."

They arranged an hour of meeting at the restaurant.

In front of the post-office Bob met Joyce Crawford. The young woman had
fulfilled the promise of her girlhood. As she moved down the street, tall
and slender, there was a light, joyous freedom in her step. So Ellen
Terry walked in her resilient prime.

"Miss Joyce, he's here," Bob said.

"Who--Dave?"

She and her father and Bob had more than once met as a committee of three
to discuss the interests of Sanders both before and since his release.
The week after he left Canon City letters of thanks had reached both Hart
and Crawford, but these had given no address. Their letters to him had
remained unanswered nor had a detective agency been able to find him.

"Yes, ma'am, Dave! He's right here in town. Met him half an hour ago."

"I'm glad. How does he look?"

"He's grown older, a heap older. And he's different. You know what an
easy-goin' kid he was, always friendly and happy as a half-grown pup.
Well, he ain't thataway now. Looks like he never would laugh again
real cheerful. I don't reckon he ever will. He's done got the prison
brand on him for good. I couldn't see my old Dave in him a-tall. He's
hard as nails--and bitter."

The brown eyes softened. "He would be, of course. How could he help it?"

"And he kinda holds you off. He's been hurt bad and ain't takin' no
chances whatever, don't you reckon?"

"Do you mean he's broken?"

"Not a bit. He's strong, and he looks at you straight and hard. But
they've crushed all the kid outa him. He was a mighty nice boy, Dave was.
I hate to lose him."

"When can I see him?"