, as Linder had half expected; she slipped quietly and
gracefully into their presence. She was dressed in black, in a costume
which did not too much conceal the charm of her figure, and the
nut-brown lustre of her face and hair played against the sober
background of her dress with an effect that was almost dazzling.

"My daughter, Zen," said Y.D. "Mr. Transley, Mr. Linder."

She shook hands frankly, first with Transley, then with Linder, as
had been the order of the introduction. In her manner was neither the
shyness which sometimes marks the women of remote settlements, nor the
boldness so readily bred of outdoor life. She gave the impression of one
who has herself, and the situation, in hand.

"We're always glad to have guests at the Y.D." she was saying. "We live
so far from everywhere."

Linder thought that a strange peg on which to hang their welcome. But
she was continuing--

"And you have been so successful, haven't you? You have made quite a hit
with Dad."

"How about Dad's daughter?" asked Transley. Transley had a manner of
direct and forceful action. These were his first words to her. Linder
would not have dared be so precipitate.

"Perhaps," thought Linder to himself, as he turned the incident over in
his mind, "perhaps that is why Transley is boss, and I'm just foreman."
The young woman's behavior seemed to support that conclusion. She did
not answer Transley's question, but she gave no evidence of displeasure.

"You boys must be hungry," Y.D. was saying. "Pile in."

The rancher and his wife sat at the ends of the table; Transley on the
side at Y.D.'s right; Linder at Transley's right. In the better light
Linder noted Y.D.'s face. It was the face of a man of fifty, possibly
sixty. Life in the open plays strange tricks with the appearance. Some
men it ages before their time; others seem to tap a spring of perpetual
youth. Save for the grey moustache and the puckerings about the eyes
Y.D.'s was still a young man's face. Then, as the rancher turned his
head, Linder noted a long scar, as of a burn, almost grown over in the
right cheek.... Across the table from them sat the girl, impartially
dividing her position between the two.

A Chinese boy served soup, and the rancher set the example by "piling
in" without formality. Eight hours in the open air between meals is a
powerful deterrent of table small-talk. Then followed a huge joint
of beef, from which Y.D. cut generous slices with swift and dexterous