I got some whiskey left. Whiskey
is good fer most anything. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll just go
round the house, and I'll rub some of that whiskey on my knee."

She heard him pass out of the door. She was alone. Absolutely she
welcomed the sound of his foot again. He might have seen her face
almost light up.

"When you git kicked on a bone," he said, "it hurts worse. She's
swelled up some, but I reckon she'll get well in a few days or weeks.
I don't think she's busted much, though at first I thought he'd knocked
the knee cap plump off. There's a cut in above there. Cork of the
shoe must of hit me there."

The gravity of her face was her answer. She could see nothing.

"I reckon you can smell that whiskey," said he, "but I ain't drunk
none--it's just on my leg, that's all."

"You're not a drinking man?" she asked.

"Why, yes, of course I am. All of us people out here drinks more or
less when they can git it--this is a dry state. But I allow I'll cut
it out fer a while, now, ma'am."

"Ain't you hungry now, ma'am?" he added. "We didn't have a bite to eat
all day."

"Yes," said she. "But how can I help cook supper--what can I do?"

"There ain't much you need to do, ma'am. If I've lived here alone all
this time, and lived alone everywhere else fer thirty-seven years, I
reckon I can cook one more meal."

"For your housekeeper!" she said, smiling bitterly.

"Well, yes," he replied. "You don't know where things is yet. I got
some bacon here, and aigs too. I brought out some oranges from
town--fer you." She did not see him color shyly. Oranges were
something Sim Gage never had brought to his ranch before. He had
bought them of the Park commissary at the station.

"Then I got some canned tomatoes--they're always good with bacon. Out
under my straw pile I got some potatoes that ain't froze so very bad
anyways, and you know spuds is always good. I didn't bring no more
flour, because I had plenty. I can make all sorts of bread,
ma'am--flapjacks, or biscuits, or even sour dough--even dough-gods. I
ain't so strong when it comes to making the kind of bread you put in
the oven."

"Why, I can make that--I know I can do that!" she said, pleased at the
thought.

"We'll start in on that to-morrow," said he. "I'll just cook you one
meal--as bad as I can, ma'am--so as to show you how bad I needed a
housekeeper out here."

The chuckle in his tones was contagious, so that she almost laughed
he