CHAPTER II

Bostil went toward the house with his daughter, turning at the door to call a
last word to his riders about the care of his horses.

The house was a low, flat, wide structure, with a corridor running through the
middle, from which doors led into the adobe-walled rooms. The windows were
small openings high up, evidently intended for defense as well as light, and
they had rude wooden shutters. The floor was clay, covered everywhere by
Indian blankets. A pioneer's home it was, simple and crude, yet comfortable,
and having the rare quality peculiar to desert homes it was cool in summer and
warm in winter.

As Bostil entered with his arm round Lucy a big hound rose from the hearth.
This room was immense, running the length of the house, and it contained a
huge stone fireplace, where a kettle smoked fragrantly, and rude home-made
chairs with blanket coverings, and tables to match, and walls covered with
bridles, guns, pistols, Indian weapons and ornaments, and trophies of the
chase. In a far corner stood a work-bench, with tools upon it and horse
trappings under it. In the opposite corner a door led into the kitchen. This
room was Bostil's famous living-room, in which many things had happened, some
of which had helped make desert history and were never mentioned by Bostil.

Bostil's sister came in from the kitchen. She was a huge person with a severe
yet motherly face. She had her hands on her hips, and she cast a rather
disapproving glance at father and daughter.

"So you're back again?" she queried, severely.

"Sure, Auntie," replied the girl, complacently.