"All right. Yeager's it is. We're acting like a pair of kids, seems to
me." This last with a propitiatory little smile toward her which she
disdained to answer.

Yeager saw them from afar, and recognized the girl.

"Hello, Phyllis!" he shouted down. "With you in a minute."

The girl slipped to the ground, and climbed the steep trail to meet him.
Her crisp "Wait here," flung over her shoulder with the slightest turn
of the head, kept Keller in the saddle.

Halfway up she and the man met. The one waiting below could not hear
what they said, but he could tell she was explaining the situation to
Yeager. The latter nodded from time to time, protested, was vehemently
overruled, and seemed to leave the matter with her. Together they
retraced their way. Young Yeager, in flannel shirt and half-leg miner's
boots, was a splendid specimen of bronzed Arizona. His level gaze judged
the man on horseback, approved him, and met him eye to eye.

"Better light, Mr. Keller. If you come in we'll have a look at your arm.
An accident like that is a mighty awkward thing to happen to a man on
the trail. It's right fortunate Miss Sanderson found you so soon after
it happened."

The nester knew a surge of triumph in his blood, but it did not show in
the impassive face which he turned upon his host.

"It was right fortunate for me," he said, swinging from the saddle.
Incidentally he was wondering what story had been narrated to Yeager,