to show her power over old "Grizzly Gaylor" by protecting the poor wretch,
Harp would have met the fate he probably deserved. But she had amused
herself, and saved him. Sick and forlorn, he had been nursed back to
something like health in the house of one among many gardeners. Since then
he had been her slave, her dog. He called her "my lady," and she rather
liked the name. She liked the worshipping admiration in the red-lidded
eyes which had once been handsome, and she believed, what he often said,
that there was nothing on earth he wouldn't do for her. Once or twice the
thought had pierced her brain like a sharp needle, that perhaps he had
already done a thing for her--a great thing. But it was better not to
know, not even to guess. Fortunately the idea had apparently never
occurred to any one else, and of course it never could now. Yet there had
been a very curious look in Simeon Harp's eyes a year ago when---- ... Not
that it proved anything. There was always a more or less curious look in
his eyes. He was altogether a curious person, perhaps a little mad, or, at
any rate, vague. Especially was he vague about his reasons for leaving his
native land to emigrate to America. He said it was so long ago, and he had
gone through so much, that he had forgotten. There are some things it is
as well to forget. Since Carmen had known him, Simeon Harp had tried his
luck as a water diviner, but failing, sometimes when he most wished to
succeed, in that profession, he had now definitely settled down as
squirrel poisoner to the neighbourhood. Those pests to farmers and
ranchmen, ground squirrels, had given the strange old man a chance to
build up a reputation of a sort. As a squirrel poisoner he was a brilliant
success.

"Who gave you permission to call Mr. Hilliard 'Nick'?" Carmen asked, not
very sternly, for she was pleased to have news from the other ranch. After
all, if Nick had had a visitor he might not be to blame.