om
the others. He was a man who was lavish with money--but he expected you to
pick it up out of the dust. He was of violent moods; and he had that
audacity--that taint of insanity, perhaps--which enables some men to
maintain the reputation of bad men, of "killers," in every frontier. When
Fectnor had come he had seemed to assume the right of prior possession,
and others had yielded to him without question. Indeed, it was usually
known when the man was in town, and during these periods none came to
Sylvia's door save one. He even created the impression that all others
were poachers, and that they had better be wary of him. She had been
afraid of him from the first; and it had seemed to her that her only cross
was removed when she heard that Fectnor had got a contract down in the
interior and had gone away. That had happened a good many months ago; and
Sylvia remembered now, with a feeling as of an icy hand on her heart, that
if her relationships with many of the others in those old days were
innocent enough--or at best marred only by a kindly folly--there had been
that in her encounters with Fectnor which would forever damn her in
Harboro's eyes, if the truth ever reached him. He would have the right to
call her a bad woman; and if the word seemed fantastic and unreal to her,
she knew that it would not seem so to Harboro.

If only Fectnor....

She winked quickly two or three times, as if she had been dreaming.
Antonia had set her plate before her, and the aroma of the roast was in
her nostrils. Harboro was regarding her serenely, affectionately.

CHAPTER IX

They were happier than ever, following that adjusting episode.

Harboro felt that his place had been assigned to him, and he was
satisfied. He would have to think of ways of affording diversion for
Sylvia, of course; but that could be managed, and in the meantime she
seemed disposed to prolong the rapturous and sufficient joys of their
honeymoon. He would be on the lookout, and when the moment of reaction
came he would be ready with suggestions. She had spoken of riding. There
would be places to go. The _bailes_ out at the Quemado; weddings far out
in the chaparral. Many Americans attended these affairs in a spirit of
adventure, and the ride was always delightful. There was a seduction in
the desert winds, in the low-vaulted skies with their decorative schemes
of constellations.

He was rather at a loss as to how to meet the people who had made a fellow