no. We have given up the old haunts and the old way of living. We are
rather inclined, my dear young sir, to look upon this as our country,
too.'

'Bully for you!' cried Howard warmly. 'You're sure welcome.' His eyes
came back from the father to rest upon the daughter's bronze tresses.
'Welcome as a water-hole in a hot land,' he added emphatically.

'Speaking of water-holes,' suggested Longstreet, sitting back upon his
boot heels in a manner to suggest the favourite squatting position of
the cowboys of whom he and his daughter had seen much during these last
few weeks, 'was it you who made camp right over yonder?' He pointed.

Helen looked up curiously for Howard's answer and thus met the eyes he
had not withdrawn from her. He smiled at her, a frank, open sort of
smile, and thereafter turned to his questioner.

'When?' he asked briefly.

'Last night. Just before we came.'

'What makes you think some one made camp there?'

'There was a fire; bacon was frying, coffee boiling.'

'And you didn't step across to take a squint at your next-door
neighbour?'

'We did,' said the professor. 'But he had gone, leaving his fire
burning, his meal cooking.'