speechless with embarrassment. Both were silently thankful they had
shaved that morning and Skinny wondered if his face, like Old Heck's,
was streaked with sweat and dust.

For a moment the group studied one another.

Carolyn June held the eyes of Skinny in mute and helpless admiration.
Despite the heat of the blazing sun she looked fresh and dean and
pleasant--wholly unsoiled by the marks of travel. A snow-white Panama
hat, the brim sensibly wide, drooped over cheeks that were touched with
a splash of tan that suggested much time in the open. An abundance of
hair, wonderfully soft and brown, showing the slightest glint of coppery
red running it in vagrant strands, fluffed from under the hat. The
skirt of her traveling suit, some light substantial material, reached
the span of a hand above the ankle. White shoes, silk stockings that
matched and through which glowed the faint pink of firm, healthy, young
flesh, lent charm to the costume she wore. Her lips were red and moist
and parted over teeth that were strong and white. A saucy upward tilt to
the nose, hinting that Carolyn June was a flirt; brown eyes that were
level almost with Skinny's and that held in them a laugh and yet deep
below the mirth something thoughtful, honest and unafraid, finished the
wreck of the cowboy's susceptible heart. Trim and smooth was Carolyn
June, suggesting to Skinny Rawlins a clean-bred filly of saddle strain
that has developed true to form.

Old Heck gazed in equal awe at the more mature Ophelia.

Somewhere near forty she may have been, cozily plump and solid. She had
gray-blue eyes that were steady and frank yet clearly accustomed to
being obeyed. Her hair was a trifle darker in shade than the silky brown