said, disengaging her arms. "They
were nipped the other night and are still tender. How did you get
here? I thought you were in Kennard."

He led her back to her seat and began to remove his cap and long
sheep-lined overcoat, saying in an undertone that the weather was
really too warm for the things. Afterward he posted himself by the
stove near her, where he stuffed his pipe with tobacco and began to
smoke, while his eyes considered her face.

"Imo and I returned to Sarita Creek yesterday," she remarked, with an
air of satisfaction. "It was good to be back, too. There has been so
much going on at Kennard that I felt quite worn out; one becomes weary
of too much buzzing around. I don't want any more of it for some time.
And I missed you dreadfully, Lee!" She flashed up a smile at him,
caught his hand for an instant, and gave it a squeeze. A thin stream
of smoke issued from one corner of Bryant's mouth at the action. "The
people were proving somewhat tiresome also. So as the weather had
moderated Imogene and I decided to return to our cabins."

"Has she recovered from her cold?" Lee inquired, raising his look to
the ceiling.

"Oh, yes; entirely. And we're quite comfortable. We had even thought
of having our ponies brought from the stable at Bartolo, so that we
could ride if it grew still milder."

"Risky."

"Well, you're probably right." She paused and scrutinized her toes to
see that they were not scorching. "Charlie brought Imo and me here on
his way home; you can take us back to our cabins when we're ready to
go."

"Imo here?" Bryant's eyebrows lifted.

"Over in the shack Dave called 'the hospital.' Dave was here when we
came and Imo asked him to take her to the place; she had heard
something of an injured man from Louise Graham. Did Louise really help
during an operation?" Lee nodded. "Well, she's odd in many ways. Must
be--what shall I say?--a little thick-skinned not to mind blood and
all the rest of it. And she doesn't go about much; not at all with the
real crowd at Kennard, only with a slow one when she does go. With her
father well off, I'd think she would want to be doing something worth
while. Charlie's still mad for her, but Gretzie thought after he met
her at our cabins that she was too self-conceited. When he asked her
if the men of New York, compared with Western men, didn't impress her
with superiority and smartness of dress, she said, 'Not those of my
acquaintance; they don't try to impress