hip and the other on the saddle. He let his unabashed gaze travel from
one to another, understood perfectly what those expressionless eyes of
stone were telling him, and, with a little laugh of light derision,
trailed debonairly into the store.

"Any mail for Larrabie Keller?" he inquired of the postmistress.

The girl at the window glanced incuriously at him and turned to look.
When she pushed his letter through the grating he met for an instant a
flash of dark eyes from a mobile face which the sun and superb health
had painted to a harmony of gold and russet, with the soft glow of pink
pushing through the tan. The unexpectedness of the picture magnetized
his gaze. Admiration, frank and human, shone from the steel-gray eyes
that had till now been only a mask. Beneath his steady look she flushed
indignantly and withdrew from the window.

Convicted of rudeness, the last thing he had meant, Keller returned to
the porch and leaned against the door jamb while he opened his letter.
His appearance immediately sandbagged conversation. Stony eyes were
focused upon him incuriously, with expressionless hostility.

He noted, however, an exception. Another had been added to the group, a
lad of about eighteen, slim and swarthy, with the same dark look of
pride he had seen on the face at the stamp window. It was easy to guess
that they were brother and sister, very likely twins, though he found in
the boy's expression a sulky impatience lacking in hers. Perhaps the lad
needed the discipline that life hammers into those who want to be a law
unto themselves.

With an insolence extremely boyish, the lad turned to Healy. "I'm for