Graham?"

"Father has twelve or fifteen teams and some scrapers used on the
ranch. The horses aren't working at this season. He would be glad to
let you have them, I know, if he thought they would be of any aid. But
with what you'll have, perhaps you----"

"I want them; I'll be more than grateful for them. I need every man
and horse available. I can't get too many. Each labourer and each
horse counts just that much more. It's a great kindness on your part
to suggest their use to me, and I'll stop on the way to camp to see
your father."

"He'll consent to your employing them," said she, confidently. "Dad
likes a man who puts up a good fight, and you're doing that. A fight
against great odds."

Bryant's face lightened with a smile almost sunny.

"By heavens, it's comforting to have a friend like you," he exclaimed,
"when one's in a tight place!"

The waiter began to place her meal, and he turned his head to look out
of the window while his mind recalled his talk with Ruth in the hotel
parlour at Kennard. Little comfort he had had from her then. Her
interest in the project, in fact, as he reviewed the summer, had been
slight, always casual, concerned only with its financial factor, never
particularly sympathetic, never warm, never eager. The thought struck
him unpleasantly. It had never occurred to him before. He wondered if
this indifference would continue when they were married, if in ten
years--when he was about forty, say--she would be even less inclined
to know his work, like the wives of some men he could name who had
their own separate interests, who gave their husbands no sympathy at
their tasks, nor courage, nor heart, and whose single cognizance of it
had to do with the size of the income.

But he drove this depressing and disloyal speculation from his mind.
Ruth was young and perhaps restless, but she was sweet and full of
promise. Time would round out her character; and when she had matured,
she would be one in a million--a mate who cheered and inspired. Every
bit of that! She would presently see the real values of things;
Charlie Menocal's monkey tricks would no longer amuse her, and she
would perceive what a shallow harlequin he was, while she would
comprehend Gretzinger's vicious, unprincipled sophistry and turn in
disgust from the man. She was inexperienced, that was all.

"It will be good to be back once more where one has plenty of room,"
Louise Graham remarked. "In that liking, you see, I'm a g