for this meeting.

When's he comm' back?

Not 'fore night, I reckon."

Whar's Isom?

Isom's sick."

Well, who's tendin' this mill?

For answer he tossed the empty bag into the corner and, without
looking at her, picked up another bag.

"I reckon ye see me, don't ye? " he asked, coolly. " Hev a cheer,
and rest a spell. Hit's a purty long climb whar you come from."

The girl was confused. She stayed in the doorway, a little helpless
and suspicious. What was Rome Stetson doing here? His mastery
of the situation, his easy confidence, puzzled and irritated her.
Should she leave? The mountaineer was a Stetson, a worm to
tread on if it crawled across the path. It would be like backing
down before an enemy. He might laugh at her after she was gone,
and, at that thought, she sat down in the chair with composed face,
looking through the door at the tumbling water, which broke with
a thousand tints under the sun, but able still to see Rome,
sidewise, as he moved about the hopper, whistling softly.

Once she looked around, fancying she saw a smile on his sober