t last sunk behind the cottonwoods. His head was
resting on his hand; the book he had been reading when the light faded
was lying open on the table before him. In this attitude he became aware
of a hesitating step on the gravel outside his open door. He had been
so absorbed that the approach of any figure along the only highway--the
river bank--had escaped his observation. Looking up, he discovered
that Mr. Alexander McGee was standing in the doorway, his hand resting
lightly on the jamb. A sudden color suffused Wayne's cheek; his hand
reached for his book, which he drew towards him hurriedly, yet half
automatically, as he might have grasped some defensive weapon.

The Bell-ringer of Angel's noticed the act, but not the blush, and
nodded approvingly. "Don't let me disturb ye. I was only meanderin'
by and reckoned I'd say 'How do?' in passin'." He leaned gently back
against the door-post, to do which comfortably he was first obliged to
shift the revolver on his hip. The sight of the weapon brought a slight
contraction to the brows of Wayne, but he gravely said: "Won't you come
in?"

"It ain't your prayin' time?" said McGee politely.

"No."

"Nor you ain't gettin' up lessons outer the Book?" he continued
thoughtfully.

"No."

"Cos it don't seem, so to speak, you see, the square thing to be
botherin' a man when he might be doin' suthin' else, don't you see? You
understand what I mean?"

It was his known peculiarity that he always seemed to be suffering from
an inability to lucid expression, and the fear of being misunderstood in
regard to the most patent or equally the most unimportant details of his
speech. All of which, however, was in very remarkable contrast to his
perfectly clear and penetrating eyes.

Wayne gravely assured him that he was not interrupting him in any way.

"I often thought--that is, I had an idea, you understand what I mean--of
stoppin' in passing. You and me, you see, are sorter alike; we don't
seem to jibe in with the gin'ral gait o' the camp. You understand what I
mean? We ain't in the game, eh? You see what I'm after?"

Madison Wayne glanced half mechanically at McGee's revolver. McGee's
clear eyes at once took in the glance.

"That's it! You understand? You with them books of yours, and me with
my shootin' iron--we're sort o' different from the rest, and ought to be
kinder like partners. You understand what I mean? We keep this camp in
check. We hold a full hand, and don't stand no